Paris was always lovely in the summer, and for Hermione, the Place Cachee held some lovely memories of her mother. Angelique had been a happy woman, who's disposition was admired by all who knew her. She was unfailingly kind and didn't discriminate, despite her blood status.

She'd felt strongly that everyone had value.

She'd instilled those qualities into her daughter, and always made sure to remind her that it cost nothing to be kind.

"Kindness is its own form of currency, Hermione...it will always repay you when you least expect it."

There were many times at Hogwarts that she'd held fast to those words. Through the taunts and sneers, she'd held onto her Mother's words like a beacon of hope, even during the darkest hours of the war. Now, as she walked arm in arm with Draco Malfoy of all wizards, ignoring the stares and whispers of passer-by's—she thought back on her Mother's words, and shook her head in wonder.

"I can hear your mind processing from here, Hermione."

She lifted up her gaze to the wizard next to her, who was watching her closely.

"Just thinking about my Mother."

Draco's expression fell briefly, before his mask came down.

"Good thoughts?"

"All my thoughts of my Mother are good ones. Sometimes when I come here, I feel a wave of nostalgia. She loved it here."

"I didn't know the Dagworth-Grangers resided in France."

"They didn't. At least not until my Mother. She went to Beauxbatons, but lived in Britain too. Her parents had a home in Knightsbridge, where she spent her summers and holidays, while she was in school."

"Why didn't she go to Hogwarts?"

"I honestly don't know. My Mother's parents moved back to Britain right after she was born, as they'd both attended Ilvermorny."

"Do you know what family you Maternal Grandmother hailed from?"

"Picquery."

"Seraphina Picquery? The former President of MACUSA?"

"Yes. She was my Great-Grandmother."

"Merlin!" Draco shook his head, completely stunned. "Do you know why your family came back to London?"

"No, what I do know was my Mother met my Father at Beauxbatons, and from what she shared with me—he was instantly smitten. He is three years her senior but by the time he'd graduated, he had already made his intentions clear."

"They sound like a love match."

"Yes." She smirked knowingly at Draco, and then quipped sassily, "I might not care for Lucius Malfoy, but even I can see he adores your Mother very much."

He smirked right back and nodded. "Oh, yes. Mother didn't care for Father at all during their early years at Hogwarts. He is two years older. During his seventh year, my Grandfather Cygnus—was approached by several families wishing to enter into a betrothal for my Mother's hand."

"So how did she end up with your Father?"

"Well, Father was a consummate Slytherin."

"No!"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Hermione."

Her giggling caused him to lift a mocking eyebrow, but he forged on.

"Father is rather adept at intimidation, so he encouraged several of his more prominent rivals to bow out."

"Blackmail, bribery or hexing?"

He gaped down at Hermione stunned, and then threw his head back and laughed out genuinely.

Maybe his Mother had been correct about Hermione's Slytherin side.

When he glanced back down, Hermione's eyes were sparkling like fire and he just shook his head in bemusement before replying, "I would imagine all three, but I don't know for certain. However, Mother was so impressed with his cunning—that she agreed to his suit."

She quirked an eyebrow and hummed thoughtfully for several moments, a smile threatening to break free.

Intrigued, he asked, "What?"

"Your Mother is rather formidable. You do realize that it was a test, don't you?"

"What?!"

"Oh, come now, Draco? It's obvious to me your Mother liked your Father well enough, but she doesn't strike me as the kind of witch who would ever allow a wizard to take control of the courting process. So she manipulated things to her liking and watched to see just how your Father would handle himself. If he removed the competition, in her eyes he would be worthy of her hand. If not...well..."

He stared at her completely flummoxed, as he processed what he knew from the stories his parents had shared in regards the their courtship and betrothal; and he had to wonder if Granger wasn't spot on!

"That's..."

"Something you've never considered before?"

"No."

"Well, I'm sure you're considering it now, yes?"

He didn't know exactly what he was considering at this precise moment, but he was fairly certain it had absolutely nothing to do with his parents.

"I never really knew you, did I?" He spoke out before realizing what he was saying, and blushed slightly when Hermione smiled widely at him and winked.

"What do you think?"

"Right now, I'm beginning to wonder just how much trouble you are."

He watched closely as Hermione just side-eyed him, but she didn't respond which left him feeling even more intrigued.

When they'd finally reached the 3rd arrondissement, and Flamel House—Draco opened the door and the followed Hermione inside the shop.

When he glanced up, his eyes widened at the visage of the wizened wizard smiling at him.

"Ah, a Malfoy! I haven't seen one of your ilk in over a hundred years!"

Hermione giggled again at Draco's gobsmacked expression, before she turned to Master Flamel to make the proper introductions.

"Master Flamel, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco...this is Nicolas Flamel."

The wizard scooted forward, his gait stilted and awkward but he nodded politely at the young wizard. "Welcome to Paris." He then turned to Hermione and queried, "Did you finish the reading material I gave you?"

"Most of it, Sir. I brought back a couple texts and wanted to pick up the other manuscripts we'd discussed."

"Of course." He waddled back over behind a counter to his left and pulled out two large tomes. "You can take these." Bright blue eyes landed back on Draco, before Master Flamel asked, "Hermione tells me you have an interest in Alchemy."

"Yes, Sir." He nodded, giving Hermione a quick bow of the head before re-directing his attention back to the six-hundred plus year old wizard. "My interest is purely rudimentary at this juncture, but I've done a bit of research on the panchrest."

"Ah! And what have you discovered?"

"Very little, actually. Hermione and I have discussed her theory and I have to admit, it seems like a solid one."

"I thought so too." Master Flamel hummed, as he opened up a glass case and took out a few items. "The true Elixir of Life was said to have remarkable regenerative properties and as such can cure any ailment. But as you can see, the Sorcerer's Stone—of which I created, extends life...but not youth. It can cure some ailments, but not certain kinds of Dark Magic. The body decays, just at a very slow rate over a longer period of time. It's not a perfect regenerative elixir."

"But fairly close." He replied and Nicolas shrugged.

"I've spent the better part of my life looking for the missing piece. What Muggles call the silver bullet..." Master Flamel chuckled at his own joke that he didn't get, but Hermione was smiling at the older wizard, so it would appear she got his humor as well.

"Have you had any success in narrowing it down?"

"Some." The older wizard waved his hand towards cabinet filled with books. "These are some of the basic tomes I've collected on alchemy and as such, I'm having Miss Alphonse read through them. Once she officially starts her apprenticeship, I'll have her go through some of my own scholarly works."

His eyes widened. "You mean, books you've written yourself?"

"Journals mostly, but yes."

Brows furrowing in thought, he suddenly had a bolt of inspiration.

"My Godfather left me his potions journals. There's a lot of useful information on improving the recipes for elixirs, as well as other potions."

Turning to Hermione, he could see her curiosity flare as she considered him with an eager look.

"That's amazing." She admitted with a tinge of envy in her voice that made him smirk for a split second before another thought occurred.

"Master Flamel, you said the Sorcerers Stone can't cure some kinds of Dark Magic, yes?"

Flamel nodded.

"Would you happen to know just what kinds of Dark magic?"

"Some hexes and jinxes can be considered Dark, Mr. Malfoy—as it's all in the intent of the caster. However, hexes and jinxes aren't meant to render long term ill effects so in most cases, they don't cause permanent damage to the victim. Curses are an entirely differently branch of Magic and by their very nature, they're considered the most difficult not only to cast, but to control and treat. It takes a great deal of intent to cast an unforgiveable, for instance. Other curses, such as blood curses can have affects that are far reaching. But again, it's due to the intent of the original curse."

He nodded, and glanced towards Hermione—who was now watching him with an expression he couldn't define.

"However," Master Flamel droned on, "that's not exactly your question, is it? So I will tell you the Sorcerer's Stone is a version of the true Elixir of Life. It's simply not perfected. Very close...and as such could cure most curses, except the damage done by unforgivables and some blood curses."

"Some?" He couldn't stop the sliver of hope that resonated in his voice, and his mind was whirring with the implications of what he could do to help Astoria, that he didn't see Hermione's expression clear in realization.

"Yes, some...but the longer ago a blood curse was cast the more likely the Sorcerer's Stone would be unable to offer its curative powers. It might seek to prolong the life of the accursed, but not indefinitely."

"That's interesting." He turned to Hermione, who's attention was now on one of her scrolls and he frowned slightly. "Thank you, Master Flamel."

"It's alright, young man."

Flamel said his goodbyes and he was surprised when Hermione walked out of the door before he'd even had a chance to open it for her...her body language radiating tension.

When he caught up with her, by gently halting her footsteps as he placed his hand on her arm...she gazed up at him and he immediately noticed her expression was closed off.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Hermione. I may not know you well, but I know you well enough to know when you're bothered by something."

She just frowned at him and replied evenly, "I think, Draco—that you've been lying to yourself."

"What are you talking about."

She took a small step back just out of his reach, and forged on, "You are in love with Astoria. I just think you don't realize it."

His face pinched but he shook his head in the negative. "Hermione, I care very much for Astoria, but I'm not in love with her."

Her soft belabored sigh made him feel as if she was chastising his assertions.

"Draco..."

"No, Granger!" He didn't correct himself, and he saw Hermione's eyes widen at the use of the old moniker. "I may be a failure at a lot of things, but when it comes to my emotions, it's probably the one thing that..." he paused and tensed, unsure how much to reveal, but Hermione's earnest expression had him faltering...

"Look, I grew up with Tori—much in the way you did with Potter. Whereas Pansy and myself are also close, my relationship with Pansy was fraught with the fact that we are both too much alike. Too closed off, and too distrusting of everyone. Tori is open and sweet. She doesn't judge and she's a good listener. It took me years to open up to her, but then during our sixth year, I pushed her away. I didn't tell her any of the issues that I was dealing with."

"Because you didn't trust her or you didn't want to hurt her?"

"Because...I didn't want to drag her down with me. If I had told her anything, she would've tried to talk me out of it and my choice...however you want to see it? Wasn't exactly mine to make. You and Potter have something that binds you together, right?"

She nodded, seeing no reason to deny it.

"As do Tori and I. I want her to have a good life, and if that means that I need to try and find a way to ensure that happens, then that's what I'll do. If this were Potter, what would you do to save him from his fate?"

She folded her arms and glared up at him in challenge. "I'm certain, I've already showed just what I was and am willing to do for Harry, Malfoy. Or were the scars and being crucio'd in your home not enough of a dead giveaway."

He flinched as he looked down his nose at the witch in front of him, her face filled with that righteous indignation that made him instinctively want to say something unkind.

But he refrained.

He just lowered his face to hers and said lowly, "Just because I didn't fight in a war with Tori, doesn't mean she's any less important to me than Potter is to you. If you have a problem with that, then I don't know what to tell you."

"I don't."

"Doesn't seem like it to me."

She moved even closer so their bodies were almost touching, as she glowered up at him.

"That's not why I'm upset." She growled.

"No?"

"No, you great prat. You made the decision all on your own, that you were going to use my research to help Tori. I saw it on your face. But did you even for a moment, consider asking me if I was alright with it? I asked you not to take my research as your own, but the minute Master Flamel gave you the idea...your mind was made up. Wasn't it?"

He took a stunted step back in shock. "You wouldn't help her?"

"That's not the point, Malfoy!" She hissed. "You don't even know if she is cursed, first off. But if she is, of course I'd want to help her, but you just selfishly assumed it! You weren't even planning to ask!"

"You didn't give me a chance to!" He roared back, gaining the attention of several witches and wizards who were walking by.

Shaking her head in defeat, she turned around and stormed away, leaving an angry Draco Malfoy staring after her—both wondering how in Merlin's name they were ever going to make this situation work between them.