AN: Sorry I'm a bit late posting this! The website has been down all day, and I'm hoping I can avoid a 503 error at least until I can get this chapter up. Let me know if there's any issues with reading it!

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Hermione was sitting on the edge of Miranda's bed in her comfiest pair of pajamas and was painting her toe nails I vibrant shade of purple. There was quiet music playing, whatever girl band Miranda was currently obsessed with, and an array of snack foods scattered between them in the floor.

"So, let me get this straight." Miranda had just sat through Hermione's story of Draco's failed attempts to win her affection, and she had taken it surprisingly well. Granted, Hermione had edited the story to avoid any magical elements. "This man spent a most likely ungodly amount of time training twelve doves to find you, carry an enormous heart made out of roses, and shower glitter on you. Which would be an impressive feat if his goal was to embarrass you, but he somehow thought this would get you to fall in love with him?"

"Yes, he apparently did."

"And he thought this would still keep whatever love affair might develop between you under the radar. Which is necessary for reasons you would rather not explain."

Hermione glanced up from her toes and said, "It's complicated, Mo."

Miranda was quiet for several moments. She was sitting upside down in her florescent green beanbag chair, so it was difficult for Hermione to tell what she was thinking. Miranda squinted her eyes and asked, "Did it work?"

"Of course it didn't work," Hermione exclaimed indignantly. She cursed quietly and tried to wipe away the nail polish she had gotten on her toe. "It was the most absurd display of stupidity I had ever seen."

"No doubt," Miranda agreed, trying to nod her head while still sitting upside down. It was no easy feat but she considered it a victory that she only hit her head on the floor twice. "You have to admit that the attention was probably nice, though."

A pillow was immediately lobbed at Miranda's head. "It was not! I was mortified," Hermione said despite the blush working its way onto her cheeks. "There were so many important politicians there, people I respect. I can't show my face there any time soon." Lost in thought about her potentially damaged reputation, Hermione barely managed to dodge the returned pillow.

"At least he wasn't there," Miranda said to try and comfort her clearly distressed friend. "Now the tabloids can only speculate who it was without any real proof. It'll blow over fairly quickly, I'm sure."

"I certainly hope so," Hermione mumbled, but the image of Draco standing in the atrium doorway still lingered in her mind. She blew gently on her now bright purple toenails, eyes fixed on the light gray carpet beyond as though it could offer any sort of wisdom or answers. "I should have known he wouldn't take this seriously. I should have known better."

"Since when was romance supposed to be serious?" Miranda sat up properly in the beanbag and frowned at Hermione. "Romance is supposed to be fun and exciting."

"Oh, what would you know?"

"A whole lot, actually," Miranda replied haughtily. "I know enough to know that you can't expect the bloke to read your mind."

Hermione glared at her. "He could have asked."

"You could have told him."

Hermione groaned and fell back onto the bed. The ceiling offered even fewer answers than the carpet. "I used to hate him, you know. Hated everything he was and everything he stood for."

"I know," Miranda said softly. "He was the one who bullied you, right?"

"Exactly, so he is the last person I should consider dating." Hermione sighed and threw an arm over her eyes. This was the endless loop her mind kept running through: hating Draco Malfoy or dating Draco Malfoy. She weighed the pros and cons, consider every angle and every opinion, and still had no answer to what she should do. "I shouldn't have given him the chance."

"But you did." Miranda joined Hermione on the bed and waited for her to remove her arm from her face. When Hermione finally turned to look at her, Miranda smiled sweetly at her. "So why did you?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Miranda said firmly. "You are Hermione Granger. You know everything."

Hermione stared at her friend for a long moment. Miranda had been the first person she saw when she stepped into White Wolf Designs. She had been depressed and buried under the weight of her grief, and Miranda had been the only person not to treat her like she was fragile. She didn't treat her like a hero or the savior's best friend or the brightest witch. Miranda treated her like a woman who needed a friend, and maybe a few breakdown induced tattoos. Miranda had helped pull her from the darkness.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered. Her throat felt tight, no doubt from the tears she still refused to cry. "I don't say it enough, but thank you."

"What for?" Miranda bumped her shoulder against Hermione's and grinned. "For my endless supply of sage wisdom or my bounty of snack foods?"

"For your friendship, smartarse."

"Thank you for letting me be your friend."

They spent the rest of the day avoiding any talk about men or relationships. Jacob was banished to the tattoo shop below Miranda's apartment, and the women enjoyed a afternoon of romantic comedies and absurd amounts of junk food. When the sun finally began setting, Miranda called an end to their stay-cation. She had a date to get to, and after getting Hermione's advice on her outfit, she danced out the front door. Hermione changed into a soft sweater and leggings before making her way downstairs and into White Wolf Designs' front office.

Hermione dug around behind the desk and found a book of her old designs. She leaned against the front desk, humming quietly to herself, and began to flip through her old portfolio and pictures of her work. Smiling fondly, she marveled at how far she had come since her apprenticeship.

"What are you smiling at?"

Hermione glanced up from the binder and felt her smile grow wider. "I'm amazed, that's all."

Jacob leaned against the opposite side of the desk and looked down at the pages she had open. He was heartbreakingly handsome. Sharp cheekbones dusted in a 5 o'clock shadow and framing his dark green eyes. He had cut his hair since the last time she had seen him, and his brown locks were shaved close on the side and left slightly longer at the top. The way he was leaned against the desk emphasized his already defined arm muscles and made his frame look even bigger than usual.

"Amazed?" He flipped the page, oblivious to Hermione's gaze. "Amazed at how terrible you were?"

Hermione snorted and flicked his arm. "Amazed at how much better I am than you."

Jacob glanced up from the book and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Now, now. Don't forget who taught you everything you know." He poked her forehead and swiped the book from the desk.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione drawled, "How can I forget when you remind me every chance you get?"

Whatever witty retort Jacob had ready was cut off by the resident Hurricane Miranda that came blowing into the shop. "Hermione, darling, love, my dear!"

Hermione groaned loudly and hid her face in her hands. "Mo…" She drew out the name with a hint of warning in her voice. "Using more than one pet name usually means you want something, and it is usually followed by regret or a hangover. Or both. I'll go ahead and say no just to be safe." She lifted her face from her hands and came face to face with a pouting Miranda.

Lip jutted out dramatically and large, brown eyes shining with fake tears, Miranda begged, "Hermione, sweetie, lovebug, this is the best idea I have ever had in the history of forever, and I promise you won't regret it or be hungover."

Jacob chuckled quietly. He had watched the women have nearly this same conversation once a week during Hermione's apprenticeship, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Miranda would get her way. Hermione could never resist the pout. Hermione glared at him when she heard him laughing and he shrugged.

"What's this incredibly wonderful idea of yours?"

The smile that quickly took over Miranda's face was full of too much mischief. "I have been thinking about what your 'I need a vacation from men,' crazy, unplanned body art should be, and I have the best idea."

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione argue, "Miranda, just because I've come back for a visit does not mean I need new art. I have enough at the moment, I think, and no one said anything about a vacation from men." She could feel Jacob's confused expression pointed at the back of her head, but she ignored it in the face of more pressing issues. She was determined to stand her ground this time.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Sure you do." She skipped behind the desk Hermione was still leaned against and pulled out the binder of information on the different piercings they offered. Jacob stepped up behind them so he could look over their shoulders, and Hermione held her breath as she waited for Miranda to explain. Pages flipped rapidly as the petite woman searched for the specific page that held Hermione's supposed newest addition to the mosaic her body had turned into.

"Aha!" Miranda smacked her hand excitedly at the picture she had been looking for.

Hermione's eyebrows damn near shot up into her hairline. "A bellybutton piercing," she demanded. Her tone betrayed her desire to turn down the idea and caused Miranda to launch into what was no doubt going to be a long-winded and very quickly spoken explanation on why she thought this was the perfect piercing for Hermione to get.

Miranda got as far as, "Okay, hear me out," before Hermione stopped her with a raised hand. She eyed the pictures for a few moments before a begrudging smile began to work its way across her cheeks. "You know, Mo, this may be the first good idea you've had in a long while."

Miranda ignored the insult in favor of bouncing up and down and squealing excitedly. "Oh, Hermione, this is going to look so good! Especially in the summer when you put on a bikini. Those boys will all swoon." She threw her hand up across her forehead and mimed just how dramatically the boys would apparently swoon which sent Hermione into a fit of laughter.

"Alright, you pick out the jewelry while Jacob and I prep the work room." Hermione barely had time to finish her sentence before Miranda snatched the book and ran to the store room behind the front desk to search for the perfect belly button ring.

Having lost her diversion, Hermione faced Jacob and immediately said, "Before you ask, it's not a big deal. I reconnected with a bloke I knew from school, and then he stood me up for dinner and embarrassed me in a rather public setting. End of story." She watched the emotions flicker through Jacob's forest green eyes. He squinted at her slightly. "Okay," she relented, "maybe I'm a little upset about it." She hesitated as the mental image of all the snack food they had just devoured upstairs flashed through her mind. "Maybe a bit more than a little upset."

His eyes hardened, and his brow furrowed.

"No," she said and held her hands up in a placative gesture. "There's no reason for you to get involved. I handled it. It's over and done with. No more second chances."

Her crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

Hermione rolled her eyes in return and grumbled, "I'm not unloading all my emotional baggage on you, Jacob. That's not why I'm here."

Jacob rested a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly in a move that gave her immediate comfort. Leveling her with a serious expression, he said, "You are always welcome in my shop. You are family, Hermione, never feel like you're unloading emotions or any such nonsense. As far as that boy is concerned, it is entirely up to you how you move forward from her. Everyone deserves a second chance, Hermione, but sometimes they need new beginnings instead. A chance to leave the past in the past and completely start over. If you think he deserves that, then allow yourselves to try again without allowing history or past mistakes to get in the way. But if you don't think he deserves it, then you don't have to give it to him. You owe him nothing. It's up to you who you allow in your life, and you decide how long they stay." Smiling softly down at her, he ruffled her hair. "Now step into my office, young padawan. We have an 'I'm taking a vacation from men' piercing to prepare for."

Unfortunately, the belly button piercing would have to wait because at that moment one of Jacob's customers came in needing an emergency tattoo cover up. Hermione sat back and amused herself with listening to Jacob's 'This is why I should be the only one doing your tattoos' speech. When they disappeared into one of the adjacent rooms, Hermione went back upstairs to the apartment and wrote a letter to Ginny and Luna to ask how her shop was doing. She would have to wait until after the sun set to send it so her owl wouldn't be spotted by any muggles.

She had decided to leave the shop in their, hopefully, capable hands for the next few days. All of her appointments had been moved to future dates, and she kept telling herself she deserved the vacation. Hell, she needed the vacation. And two days later, she felt incredible. The sun rose, and Hermione stretched lazily as she woke. Not hurried. Not stressed.

There was a pep in her step as she made her way down into the shop after breakfast. All day yesterday had been spent bouncing around town with Miranda, but she had been unsuccessful in fully distracting her from the idea of a belly button piercing. Which was why, before White Wolf Designs opened for the day, she and Jacob would be setting up for her 'I had a wonderful vacation from men' piercing.

Hermione was arguing with Miranda over the color of the jewelry when the doorbell sounded through the shop. Both women looked at the front door in confusion, and even Jacob poked his head out of a work room to frown at the door. It was far too early for customers.

Miranda bounced over to the door, her sunshine bright smile already dancing on her cheeks. She opened the door, and Hermione found herself looking at a shock of white blond hair and grey eyes.

—..—

Draco lasted all of two days before his patience ran out.

He had busied himself with work, gone to see if Potter had any updates on his investigation into Lucius, and gotten black out drunk with Blaise and Theo. Nevertheless, he woke up before the sun had fully risen on Tuesday morning and got dressed with the intention of finding Hermione.

Various apologies played through his mind, but nothing sounded good enough. Having learned his lesson, Draco decided to visit his mother rather than his friends and ask for her advice. The horizon had barely begun to turn pink, but he knew Narcissa would be awake. She was up before dawn almost every morning so she could tend to her plants and watch the sunrise. She claimed it was one of the few pleasures she had in life, but he knew it was because of the nightmares.

He apparated to the French villa and made his way directly to the back veranda. Narcissa was sat at the tea table with a cup of tea before her and a small watering can at her feet. Despite the ability to do it magically or even have a house elf perform the menial task, his mother had always preferred to water her plants by hand.

"Good morning, Mother."

Narcissa smiled up at him and held her hand out to him. "Good morning, darling."

He kissed her knuckles gently and helped her rise from her seat. "I apologize for interrupting your morning ritual, but I was hoping to ask for your advice."

"You're going to visit Hermione," she said as she picked up her watering can and looped her hand through his arm. "I'm surprised you came to me rather than asking your friends to help you."

"I think I've learned my lesson."

"We can hope."

They wove through her garden, stopping every so often so Narcissa could water her plants, and watched the horizon slowly change to soft shades of pink, orange, and yellow. Despite having come to ask for her advice, Draco quickly lost himself in his thoughts as they walked. He hated apologizing, had never been very good at it growing up and resented having to humble himself to people. Hated admitting he was wrong.

What would he even say to her, he thought with a frown. He was sorry that his friends were complete idiots lacking any form of decorum, forethought, or intelligence? He was sorry that he had been stupid enough to listen to them. That he had gotten so caught up in the idea of seducing some witch that he had forgotten this was all for Hermione Granger. Not some witch, some one night stand whose name he would forget by morning. Not one of Pansy's conquests or Blaise's long line of eligible witches. He had royally botched his second chance with her, potentially his only second chance with her because he couldn't forget that he stood her up the first time.

The crease of his brow deepened with each anxiety-fueled second until he was fully glaring at the plants in front of him.

"Draco, darling, I know you dislike humbling yourself, but you are scaring my flowers."

Sure enough, Narcissa's beautiful rosemary blossoms were quivering and hiding behind their leaves. Draco whispered a soft apology as his mother watered them and then continued down the path with her, this time with a less threatening and slightly more thoughtful expression on his face. It wouldn't do to frighten Mother's plants; she had taken his broom from him for an entire month the last time he had frightened her roses at the Manor. He hadn't meant to crash his broom into the middle of their bush, but Narcissa refused to give it back until he had apologized. Sincerely. To the flowers. His swallowed pride had hurt worse than the countless thorns he had received for his troubles.

But apologizing to Hermione would be much more difficult than apologizing to roses.

"Be honest," Narcissa said quietly.

Draco realized he had stopped walking and was staring at a rose bush in front of them. Being honest was not his strong suit, not when it came to people outside of his circle. "What do I say?"

"That you made a mistake. That you allowed your friends' advice to cloud your judgment, and you lost sight of what mattered." Narcissa smiled at him and patted his cheek gently. "Remind her why she gave you a second chance the first time."

"It can't be that easy."

"It can be, if you let it."

Draco sighed and wearily rubbed a hand against his forehead. "What if she turns me away?" He had refused to voice his fears before, but they were bubbling out of him before he could stop them. "What if she doesn't forgive me? What if she realizes the truth, that she deserves so much better than me?" He choked on the last few words and felt the burn of tears behind his eyes. Salazar save him, what was this witch doing to him?

"Draco, surely you don't mean that."

"I do," he whispered hoarsely. "I was so cruel to her. I put her through hell for seven years, and now I expect things to change because of some cruel twist of fate? Can she truly believe that I buried my appreciation and admiration under the brainwashing of my father?"

"Yes," Narcissa said simply. "Is that so hard for you to believe?"

Draco was more concerned with what Hermione would believe.

"People change, Draco. Even people as stubborn and bullheaded as you. Morgana knows, after going through that war, none of you are the same children as before. When you look at her, you can no longer see your old classmate. Look at her and see a young witch who has caught your attention. One who you are trying to convince to join you for dinner and explore a romantic future with. Despite your friends' best efforts to the contrary," she added with a sly smile.

Draco returned her smile and nodded. "As always, Mother, you are right." His foot began tapping anxiously against the pathway which brought a smile to his mother's face.

"Go," she said with a wave of her hand. "I can find my way back on my own."

He didn't need to be told twice. Draco kissed his mother on the cheek and apparated away to the muggle street Luna had taken him to a few days ago. Looking at the tattoo shop, Draco felt an echo of the fear he felt when he looked at Azkaban. As though, if he wasn't careful, this place might be the end of him.

Shaking his head at his own absurdity, Draco squared his shoulder and crossed the street.