Chapter 3

The following morning, Hermione peeked around the door into her bedroom. Draco lay on her bed, spread out, underneath the white coverlet. He looked so peaceful that she hesitated waking him. In the end, she knew it was for the best.

She walked to the window and pulled up the blinds. Turning, she saw Draco just opening his silver eyes.

"Good morning," she said quietly.

"Where am I?' asked Draco.

"London," Hermione replied. "My flat."

He sat up, the coverlet sliding down to his waist. He rubbed one eye and yawned widely. "Who exactly are you?" he asked inquisitively, his head tilted to one side.

Hermione stared at him. Last night, in the forest, she assumed that he hadn't recognized her due to the light and the situation. But now, she was a little confused.

"It's me, Hermione." When no recognition lit up his face, she explained further. "Hermione Granger. From Hogwarts."

He shook his head. "No, sorry, I don't recognize you. Not that I would. I went to Durmstrang."

Hermione pulled back. Was this Draco's idea of a sick joke? She expected him to break into a smile, tease her and grab her in his arms. Or, even express a hint of derision or distaste for her. Nothing came. He merely waited calmly for her to reply.

She turned away from him and headed for the linen closet. She took the time to compose herself as she searched for a soft, clean towel. When she whirled back around, he had risen from the bed.

"Here." She thrust the towel at him and nodded towards the door to the bathroom. "Feel free to take another shower. I'll bring in a tray of breakfast food while you get ready, and then I'm going to run to the store to get you some clothes."

Draco nodded, staring at her intently. "Thank you. What happened to my clothes?"

"I had to throw them out," she told him, hoping that he didn't sense that she was lying. They were, in fact, newly washed and neatly folded on a shelf above her washer and dryer. She needed to keep him here, in her room, while she found out what had happened to him. He wasn't as weak as he was last night, and she knew that he would leave soon if she didn't stop him.

She had tried to keep track of him over the past five years, but she had had very little luck. He went underground after his internship with Gringotts, even though he had excelled quickly there. There had been rumors about a ministry assignment and then other rumors that he had returned to the Dark Side. Every now and then he had been spotted in France and in Italy. As a Malfoy, he was on the fringes of high society in the Wizarding World, and every now and then, the tabloids would publish bits and pieces about sightings of him, mentioning how private he kept his life.

At first, Hermione had missed him, though she understood why their relationship could not grow. After all, she had been the one to emphasize that point to him. But it didn't stop her heart from aching a little every time she saw his picture in Witch Weekly or the Daily Prophet's Gossip Column (often written by none other than Rita Skeeter). She had gotten into the habit of cutting his picture out when she saw one and tossing the clippings into the pages of her diary. He had grown so much in the past five years. At seventeen, he had been handsome. At twenty-two, he was refined. As she grew older, she realized how naïve she had been and wished that they could have a second chance.

Merlin had given her a second chance, and she was going to do everything in her power to make sure it ended how she wanted it to end.

She hadn't realized that she had been silent for so long until Draco cleared his throat.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She shook herself. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry. My mind wandered for a moment." She pulled herself together and looked him directly in the eye, taking charge of the task at hand.

"I'll be back. If you need anything, feel free to search around." She gestured out the door of the bedroom. "There's a living room and a kitchen out here. If you get hungrier, just grab something in the fridge." Before he could stop her, she escaped out the door.

The first place Hermione went was to Harrod's. She had checked his size already while she had been washing his clothes, and she grabbed several shirts, two pairs of pants, underclothes and socks. She was so efficient that she was finished in twenty minutes. She carried the items to her car and threw them into the trunk.

Wrapping her jacket tightly around her, she got back into the car and drove directly to Diagon Alley. She parked a block away from The Leaky Cauldron, and then made her way into the magical portion of London. Five minutes later, she was banging on the door to Harry and Ginny's flat.

Hermione heard a high-pitched giggle from the other side of the door. "Coming," said a female voice.

The door opened several inches, and a red-haired freckled face appeared. Ginny Potter grinned at her friend. "Hermione! What are you doing here?" Ginny tried to scoot her body behind the door, but not before Hermione saw that she only had a skimpy little towel covering her torso. From the middle of the room, Hermione heard Harry yell, "Tell them to come back in twenty minutes. That's all I need!"

Hermione's ears burned red at Harry's taunt. "I know it's early, Ginny, but I really have to talk to Harry," Hermione pleaded.

At the serious urgency in Hermione's voice, Ginny's smile fell from her face and she turned to her husband, who was obviously in the middle of the room. "Harry, get some clothes on. Hermione's here, and she needs to talk." Hermione heard Harry leave the room, and when the coast was clear, Ginny opened the door wide to let Hermione into the flat.

"What's up?" asked Ginny, a concerned expression on her face.

"It's a bit of a story," answered Hermione, shrugging off her jacket and placing onto a hook by the door.

Ginny nodded, sensing that Hermione needed an ear and some comfort. "I'll be back in a second. Let me throw on some clothes." As Ginny headed into the bedroom, she said, "There's hot water for tea and some biscuits on the table. Help yourself."

Ten minutes later, they were gathered in the living room. Ginny and Harry had donned appropriate clothing. Harry was sitting on the edge of his favorite armchair, Ginny sat on the arm of the chair, and Hermione was on the couch. Holding a cup of steaming tea in her hands, Hermione began to tell her tale, from the moment in London when she discovered the galleon was a portkey to the conversation that she had with Draco this morning. She left one part out. The kiss. It had been such an amazing kiss, and she didn't think she could share it with anyone, not even two of her closest friends.

Ginny and Harry listened, amazed, the entire time. When she was finished, Hermione asked Harry quietly, "Do you know if Draco was sent on a mission for the Ministry?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. He was." Ginny patted him on the back, encouraging him. Harry continued. "I wasn't on board yet. The ministry contacted Draco in the middle of the worst years of the war. He had declared publicly that he was no longer supporting Voldemort, and the ministry felt he needed to back his words with actions. They sent him to find his relatives, who were scattered across Europe. They kept tabs on him for a while, and then they lost track of him."

He looked Hermione directly in the eye. "When I found out, I went crazy. I had some harsh words with Scrimgeour. The way I looked at it, the ministry had sent Draco directly into a death trap. He had completely turned from Voldemort, everyone knew it. He didn't have the training necessary to battle with the Voldemort's followers, although his knowledge of the Dark Arts was extensive. And, as much as I disliked the git in school, he had turned out okay by the end."

Hermione's mouth twisted as she thought about the situation at hand. "Well, he's back. I brought him here. I don't even know where I was for those ten minutes that I was gone. He might remember, but I'm not sure. I think you and someone from St. Mungo's should come over today and talk to him." Hermione's big hazel eyes pleaded with Harry.

Ginny nodded. "I agree." She nudged Harry's shoulder. "Who owes you a favor over there?"

Harry nodded, grudgingly. It was his day off, and he wanted to spend the day with his wife. In bed. But, he knew that this was important to Hermione and to the ministry. "I bet Neville will do me a favor."

"You don't think he'll still be afraid of Malfoy?" asked Ginny.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Nah. Since Neville hit six foot three inches, nobody intimidates him."

Hermione stood. "Well, I better get back to him. I hope that he is still there."

Ginny walked her friend to the door. "Why do you think he'll stay and not run away? I mean, besides the fact that he doesn't have anyplace to go?"

Hermione turned slightly pink, and murmured, "I hid his clothes."

"You what?" Ginny wasn't sure that she had heard her friend correctly.

"I hid his clothes," she stated, loud and clear this time.

Ginny giggled. Harry grinned. Hermione shrugged.

"He took me by surprise, telling me that he didn't know me. I did what I had to do. I left." Hermione was smiling, too, by this point. Her actions were so unlike her that she could truly appreciate the humor in the whole situation. "I bought him a bunch of new clothes. The best. At Harrod's."

Harry and Ginny were laughing fully by this time. Hermione rolled her eyes at her friends.

"I'll see you in a bit," she said and took off.

Moments later, she was keying into her flat. She pushed the door open and struggled through the doorway with her purchases. Dropping them on the floor, she closed the door. Suddenly, from behind her, she heard a familiar voice.

"What the hell is going on, Hermione?" Draco's voice was tight and angry.

Hermione swiveled around to face him. He sat on her couch, with a small mound of papers spread across the coffee table in front of him. He had obviously been searching her place thoroughly, because he had found his clothes. As she approached, she realized what the papers were.

Clippings of Draco from the last five years of his life covered the table. Pictures of him in Italy, in France, with a beautiful woman on his arm in one, with a Hollywood actress in another. And in the center was her diary, open to last entry, dated two days ago, when she was pining after him more than ever.

Her indignation grew. She snatched the diary up, slammed it shut, and held it close to her. "How dare you!" she bellowed. "How dare you go into my personal things and… and.." She couldn't speak, she was so mad.

"Oh, I dare a lot," said Draco, rising from his seat and advancing towards her. He reached for her and grabbed her shoulders. "And I should ask you the same."