Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter 2

"Let me tell you Hermione that you are, by far, the hardest person to find. I searched the entire wizarding world before I even thought of searching here." Hermione remained frozen, rooted to the spot by the door. All she could do was stare. Why is he here? She asked herself wildly, trying to form rational thoughts. It was no use. It was as if her brain had become molasses or taffy; there was a thickness that she just couldn't seem to penetrate. The boy (technically he's a man now, Hermione told herself, although in her mind he would always be a snarky schoolboy) was still smirking, his arms folded lazily across his chest. He looked good; she had to give him that, although exact details and specific aspects she could not seem to comprehend.

Andrew burst through the doors, no doubt driven by the multiple crashes, and nearly ran Hermione over. He glanced quickly from Hermione to the strange man to the broken China all over the floor, trying to make sense of it in his head. When he finally did get rational enough to string two congruent thoughts together, he immediately turned to Hermione. Clasping her limp arms he turned her to face him.

"Are you alright Sweetheart?" He asked firmly but all she could do was blink at him. After a minute or two she managed to a nod, a gesture that did little to calm Andrew's worries. "Who the hell are you?" He asked, gently turning away from Hermione to address the strange man in his kitchen. Andrew was stunned. He hadn't heard anything to alert him to the fact that someone else had shown up. No doorbell or knocking, he hadn't even heard Hermione let someone in!

"Draco," Hermione said suddenly, stepping forward. Andrew's head jerked back towards his fiancée, shocked by her sudden declaration.

"You know him?" Andrew asked incredulously. Hermione's attention however was locked solely on her former classmate.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, taking another step towards him. Draco watched Hermione curiously, wondering how she could have changed so much. It wasn't so much her physical features—she still looked as radiant as ever with her porcelain skin and long cinnamon mane—but more so her eyes. They were so…dull. As if all of the life had been drained out of them.

"I came to see you," Draco said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Hermione could hear it loud and clear though. She bit her lip.

"It's been eight years, Draco." The words fell heavily between the three adults although the negativity that Hermione felt should go with such a statement was simply not there. Draco merely shrugged, the smirk falling back across his face. He took a step towards her, his hands reaching out and then suddenly falling back at his sides as if he realized what he was about to do.

"I had a lot of things to clear up after the war," Draco said simply, leaning against the countertop. At this, Andrew stepped in.

"What exactly is going on here? What are you talking about?" He demanded, glancing back and forth between his fiancée and the stranger. Hermione jumped forth.

"Andrew, this is my old friend Draco from school. Draco, this is my fiancé Andrew." She said quickly, watching Draco for a reaction. She didn't know what she expected but the scarcely noticeable mouth twitch wasn't it. He stared at Andrew, sizing him up, before extending his hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he stated in a bored voice. Andrew met Draco's hand with his, exchanging a tight grip of salutation.

"Andrew Peterson." The two men glared at eachother, heat emanating from their glares. After a minute Hermione stepped in, fearing that flames would soon be bursting forth from their eyes and not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Draco, where are you staying?" Hermione asked, grabbing the broom to sweep up the mess. He regarded her quizzically, wondering why she was doing such meaningless manual labor.

"Why don't you just use your wand to fix that?" He asked as she cast a pitying glance at the broken teacups that she was tossing in the trash.

"I don't know what you're talking about, the broom works fine," Hermione said quickly, looking flustered.

"But if you would just let me—,"

"No!" Hermione shouted vehemently when she saw Draco's hand reaching for his wand. He froze, staring at her sharply. Then, he let his gaze slide over to Andrew and suddenly he knew. He knew why Hermione didn't want to use her wand. He knew why she was being so guarded about the past. He knew.

"Andrew Sweetheart, if you leave us alone for a minute I can whip up another batch of tea and sandwiches before Barbara and Dennis decide I'm the worst hostess ever and take off," Hermione said with a laugh. Andrew watched her curiously. He didn't like the idea of leaving her with the Draco fellow but he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't leave his friends in the living room—they had traveled all this way to see him! There was no getting around it; he had to return to the living room.

"Alright, if you're sure you'll be okay," Andrew began hesitantly, scanning Hermione to see if she was silently begging him for rescuing. She wasn't. In fact, her eyes seemed to be pushing him out as if she couldn't wait for him to leave. Andrew sighed, the gentlemen in him coming out. "Why don't you stay for dinner Draco, you must be tired from traveling." Draco said nothing; he had already been planning to stay anyway.

"It's not good to be starting a marriage based on lies." Draco said as soon as the door swung shut. Hermione turned around, her finger up to her lips.

"Will you keep quiet? Do you realize how close you just came to ruining five years of work?" She hissed, running her hand through her hair. It was beginning to frizz out around her temples, struggling to be released from the braid that Hermione had worked so hard at. She didn't like when her hair hung freely, frizzing up larger and larger by the minute—it reminded her too much of her school years.

"Don't you mean five years of lies Granger?" Draco asked in a lazy drawl. She sighed in frustration, turning to face him.

"No I do not mean that. I have been completely open and honest about everything in my life with Andrew. We know everything about eachother." Hermione stated matter-of-factly. Draco raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Everything except the fact that you're a witch." Hermione winced visibly.

"Okay, so maybe we don't know everything," she admitted to a smug-looking Draco. "Hey, it worked for Seamus Finnigan's parents," she added defensively. When he continued to stare at her she brushed her hair back again and crossed her arms self consciously. "What are you doing here anyway?" She asked, her voice tinged with annoyance.

"What, no hello kiss? You seemed perfectly willing last time," Draco said as if lost in his memories. Hermione bristled.

"The circumstances were completely different. I thought we were—I thought we were the only ones left." Draco raised his eyebrows at Hermione's latest remark but he didn't miss a beat.

"So the only way you would agree to be with me is by default? If I were the only one left? Because I seem to remember several occasions during our seventh year when you were perfectly willing…." He commented as Hermione's protests rose.

"Draco, you have to be quiet! I don't want Andrew to hear you!" She snapped, glancing nervously to the door. Draco scoffed.

"Then put a damn silencing charm on the door, it's not like you don't have the ability!"

"It's different now!" Hermione shot back at him. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

"Can we talk?" Draco asked suddenly, all playfulness in his tone giving way to a seriousness that unnerved Hermione. She shifted under his heavy gaze and turned to the sink. She began running the water and adding soap over the sink full of dishes—the few that had survived the great fall.

"I was under the impression that we were talking now," Hermione said curtly, taking particular interest in one of the soapy cups. Behind her she could hear Draco moving away from the countertop but she didn't dare look at him. Suddenly, he was right behind her, his soft breath whispering against her exposed neck. His hands grasped her elbows and slowly slid down her forearms until his fingers met hers beneath the soapy water. For a minute, their fingers interlaced.

"Draco," Hermione began suddenly, turning to face him. The urgency and agitation that plagued her tone did nothing to erase the fact that she had rested a moment too long in his arms. "We can't do this here," she said simply, as if that was all there was to it. Draco smirked broadly, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Well, if you have some place you'd rather go—," he began but Hermione sighed.

"You know what I mean. We can't talk—not about anything real—here. It's too dangerous." Her eyes flicked back to the kitchen door.

"Fine, but I want to talk to you. Let's go out, I know of a restaurant that you would love." Draco said with finality, as if the matter were already decided. Hermione sighed heavily, dropping her face to her hands and rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Draco I'm married, I can't do this anymore." She said, her tone drenched in regret. Draco just stared at her, shaking his head. Finally, he leaned in, grazing the top of her head with his lips.

"You aren't married Hermione," he said flatly. Then, after a moment's pause, "Not yet."