Hermione,

I believe exchanging letters is a suitable solution.

Actions speak louder than words, that much we agree on.

As for your uncertainty around me, I will tell you that I have not wanted to harm anyone in quite some time. Verbal or otherwise. I can't promise I won't hurt you, but I can tell you I respect the work you've done, even if I think it is all a little bleeding heart.

My therapist wants me to remind myself that you are a person, not the mythical Golden Girl Do Good-er.

My favorite color is periwinkle. Don't worry, forest green is the runner up, house loyalty and all that.

What is your favorite movie? I saw my first not too long ago, but I did not enjoy it.

It was called 'Rush Hour 2'

Best,

Draco

July 1, 2002

Hermione pulled at an errant curl while Draco reviewed the list of candidates.

"You offered Luna the position for Art Therapy?" He inquired. He nudged the reading glasses, which prompted a giggle out of Hermione upon first glance, up his nose.

"Yes, I informed her she would not need to interview, that it was a job offer outright. I'm awaiting her owl." Hermione replied, scanning her own list of to-dos and candidates.

They worked in quiet, albeit awkward, harmony. Each geniuses in their own right, they rarely came up against an issue that required sweat to solve. Hermione managed many of the interpersonal and organizational issues, while Draco tended to handle more political and societal issues. Breaking this program to the public was certainly going to crease more than a few robes.

"Uhm," Hermione cleared her throat, "I was looking over the preliminary roster, and I saw that both Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini have applied to be in the inaugural round of our program."

"I didn't seem to catch a question in there." Draco answered smoothly. Hermione bristled at the remark, before realizing it lacked the old sting of cruelty. Was he trying to make a joke?

"Ah, well, yes. I didn't ask a question, did I?" Hermione blurted. Her cheeks blossomed deepest rose. Draco finally looked up from his paperwork and cocked a brow, amused.

"I've caught the brightest witch of our age in a moment of anything less than precise, eloquent communication. I believe I will enjoy this rarity while it lasts." The smile on his face was different than one she'd seen before. His teeth showed fully but his lips turned tightly up at the end. It was feline.

The Cheshire Malfoy. Hermione thought. Draco Malfoy was enigmatic. She used to believe he lived only for personal gratification and the joy of torturing others. Now, the Malfoy heir showed his truest state: entropy.

Whether good or bad, Draco Malfoy enjoyed watching things unfold. He had a great aptitude for pointing other people in whichever direction he desired. While he used to use that ability to bully and subjugate, his goals were more understated now.

Draco Malfoy was materializing in all areas of her life, seemingly out of thin air. He spurned her expectations and caused her to step out of her comfort zone. Would she be like Alice? Would he guide her through a land unknown? Quietly pointing her in whatever direction he desired, to see how it played out.

If she played his game, would he lead her to an oasis? Or would he bring her to destruction? Was he a quiet sort of chaos that pretended its actions were random and weren't to aid in the triumph of goodness, or malignant metastasizing chaos that consumed her before she knew it.

"Granger? I seem to have lost you." Draco waved his pen from across their adjoined desks in the air. Hermione shook her head and focused on him.

"I suppose I was going to prod. Curiosity killed the cat and all that." Hermione brushed away the invasive question she burned to ask. Draco frowned.

"Who am I to stand between Hermione Granger and knowledge, besides, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back." He recited the oft-forgotten ending to the wisdom.

Hermione smiled at his familiarity with the adage, "It's funny you know that one. I've always hated when people only use the first half, and they only do it to dissuade children from being rightfully inquisitive!" Hermione's arms wove through the air, passionately.

"Right you are, Philosopher Granger, but I believe you had an inappropriate inquiry for me?" Draco steered her back to the topic. He ran a hand through the wavy white-blond hair tucked behind his ear.

"Oh, yes. I was wondering if you are still in touch with Theodore and Blaise, you seemed to be rather close with them in school. Also, if it will be uncomfortable to be in an authority position." Hermione posed the question in as clinical a tone as she could. She scoured Draco for a reaction, but he simply shrugged off his brown topcoat and laid it on the back of his seat.

"I look forward to reconnecting with them, should they be interested." Draco stated, then turned back to his work abruptly. Silence settled between them. Thrumming with further questions and certain finality.

The tension shattered when an airy voice filtered through the room, accompanied by delicate staccato knocks.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy," Luna greeted them from the doorway, "I was hoping I could interview, if you are quite finished with the tense conversation."

Hermione flushed from head to toe and snorted, Draco just gaped at the eccentric woman in the doorway. Luna wore a butter yellow tulle dress that fell to her knees. She wore an earthy brown turtleneck beneath it, as well as robin's egg knee high socks, peaking out of her chunky white sandals. Her curls had glittery floss twined throughout and she stood expectantly with her fist still propped against the door frame.

"Luna," Hermione giggled, "First, don't call me Ms. Granger. Second, I told you, you don't need to interview, we want to offer you the job." Luna shook her head immediately at her friend.

"I am comfortable to concede to calling you Hermione, but I insist I interview. Seems only fair." She mused.

"Alright, well we can certainly interview you now if you'd like." Hermione gesture to the armchair across from their desks.

Draco still gaped. While he'd been writing to Luna, and she even considered him a friend, he wasn't sure he was ready to face her. As she glided into the room then plopped onto the armchair unceremoniously, he could only imagine her gaunt face in the shadows of the dungeon. The dingy, dirty clothes that hung too loosely around her.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you feeling quite ill?" Luna inquired earnestly.

Draco snapped to attention and smoothed his features, occluding harshly. "No I'm perfectly well, Luna, please, call me Draco." He gave her a careful smile.

Luna's answering grin was all teeth and dimples, "Very well, Draco. I must say it's lovely to see you in person. Your letters are very special to me. I read them with the thestrals in my pasture, they seem to find a kindred spirit in your words."

What Draco was sure was meant to be a compliment, only caused him to slam down several more concrete walls in his mind. He nodded stiffly.

"Okay, Luna, I will be conducting the majority of this interview. Have you read the information packet on the position?" Hermione slid straight in her chair and folded her hands on her desk.

"I have, and I must say, I believe this program has the potential to impact many spirits," Luna mused.

"I surely hope so," Hermione replied happily, "Anyway, how would you approach using art to help people through the very difficult transition from Azkaban back into the wizarding world?"

Luna sat thoughtfully for a moment, "I believe art is the soul speaking when the voice cannot. I would provide a peaceful and beautiful space, I believe my garden would be sufficient, and ask the participants to forget the program, the wizarding world, and just exist there. Classes would focus on different mediums: paint, clay, charcoal, even poetry. Each class I would ask them to focus on a different emotion and to use that emotion to inform their work."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, "That sounds wonderful. Why are you interested in working with this group?" She plowed right into the next question.

"I understand making mistakes. I don't believe any being to be without the propensity for goodness." More walls choked Draco's mind.

Hermione noticed that Draco's eyes were flatter than she'd ever seen before, he appeared to be looking through everything around him, unfocused and unaffected. It made her nervous.

"Why do you feel qualified to work with these individuals?" Hermione prompted, softer this time, with a glance at the stoic man to her left.

Luna sighed, "We all have seen too much death. I don't see them any differently than I see myself. I am qualified in that I hope to help them deal with their emotions, or just feel a sense of peace, for any stretch of time."

Draco finally spoke up. "How would you react if they were rude or even cruel to you? What would you do if they found it stupid."

"It is my understanding that every designated piece of the program is required, however I will not require them to participate in the work. They must remain in the garden, but I don't mind if they never approach a canvas. If they dismiss it as foolish, that is alright as well. I don't believe you have to consciously appreciate something for it to make a difference." Luna's answer was graceful, as well as immediate. She had clearly already planned her course.

"Well," Hermione glanced at Draco with obvious implied intent, when she received a curt nod, she continued, "I believe we would still like to offer you the position, Luna. Would you like to discuss compensation?" Hermione offered a handshake, which Luna gingerly returned.

"I don't require much, maybe three galleons a month?" Luna shrugged.

Hermione blanched and shook her head harshly. Draco stepped in immediately, "Ten galleons a month, and an advance of five right now for the trouble of planning the course." When Luna appeared reluctant, he cut in again, "Not up for discussion, unless you would like to negotiate more."

"Draco, I'd only be holding the class once a week, that is far too much." She protested, her voice pealing like a bell.

Hermione insisted, "No, Luna. Take it, we planned to compensate all our workers well. We have it to give and you are giving us a great service. Anyway, the money could help you open the gallery you've always wanted." Luna's eyes became glossy and she gazed at the ceiling.

"Yes, I accept your offer." She stated decidedly, then stood to take her leave.

"Hermione, I will see you on Saturday. Draco, we must have tea."

Luna left the office in a considerably different state than when she arrived. Hermione was staring at a distant Draco as he tried to understand the reason why such a kind, though still supremely strange, woman wanted his company.

July 7, 2002

A stinging burn to Hermione's left wrist, accompanied with an ear-splitting banshee shriek, woke Hermione at roughly three in the morning.

Her wards were strong. Set up by herself, and fortified by ward-specialist aurors, courtesy of Harry. Normally, they would shutter a bit, perhaps her wrist would tingle, if someone or something got a little too close or pushed a little too hard.

This, was an attack.

Crookshanks shot off the bed beside her and hissed at the window.

Hermione's heart rate was already going wild but she operated well under pressure. It was one of the only reasons she, Harry, and Ron survived while they were out on the run. She could compartmentalize and her mind got sharper in the moment of danger, it was only after the dust settled that she would have anxiety attacks and nightmares.

She strode past the cat with a mohawk of agitated fur, and to the window. Her bedroom window faced the front entrance to her building, a feature she desired. Pulling the blinds up, she could see several figures tossing spells at her wards.

They were confined to the sidewalk in front of her building. The sparks of green and red and yellow spells ground against the wards, the resulting spray reminded Hermione of masonry. The way sparks seem almost liquid as they come off a heated piece of metal being molded. The figures did not yield. They shot each spell without a moment of hesitation. Hermione had the most bizarre thought that she wished wands were like guns; that at the very least, they had to be reloaded and could not be used indefinitely. She shook the intrusive thought from her head.

The wards held, but they shuttered and swayed with each hit, shrinking by maybe a few inches for every ten spells. The magic they used was dark, Hermione could feel dread seep through her bones, the wards were keyed to inform her of any magic done to them. The deep feeling of unease was creeping but thorough, it was as though her bones went hollow and the darkness filled them and ricocheted against her insides.

She reached back for her wand on the dresser and took a deep breath. She began by strengthening the existing wards.

Flashes of woods flittered through her mind. Sitting away from camp. Hearing the gruff voices. Standing directly in front of them, praying to any divine being who would listen that they would not notice her. The way her stomach bottomed out and she nearly gagged when they mentioned the smell of her perfume.

This moment was veritably worse. These individuals certainly knew she was in the building, they were actively attempting entry.

She then put an obscuring charm on her bedroom window and opened it. She needed to see them.

She was certain in her handiwork, but Hermione couldn't stop feeling the echos of the moment in the woods. She conjured a shielding spell and sent it to reside invisibly in front of her wards, it would hold long enough for her to alert the emergency aurors and halt the damage to her existing wards.

She ran to the Floo and tossed some powder in, "Emergency Auror Floo," she called out, shoving her head into the flames. They tickled her chin and felt like the soft caress of a parent putting their child to sleep.

"Auror Hasting, state your emergency." The answering auror came into view.

"Hermione Granger, my wards are being attacked with dark magic, I counted four figures." Her voice was steady, despite the fear raging in her veins.

"Alright, Miss Granger. Step back, our team will be through in less than a minute. Find shelter and do not engage the wizards." Auror Hasting disappeared from view and Hermione stepped back.

It wasn't the first time the emergency aurors had to come look at a disturbance to her wards, but it was the first time that the aggressors were so bold. Hermione had never actually witnessed an attack on her home. She'd also never had an attack this intense.

The aurors came through not long after she grabbed Crookshanks and stationed herself at the doorway to her bedroom, wand in hand.

"Where are the wizards?" Auror Hasting asked. Hermione brought them to the window and pointed down at the four cloaked figures hurling spells at her wards. He gave her a curt nod.

Someone told her something about keeping hidden and it being handled and then they disapparated.

Hermione immediately went to the window to watch. The aurors materialized, catching the intruders off guard. They had the advantage of surprise. One intruder was hit immediately with a full body bind and collapsed to the ground. Another exchanged a volley of hexes with a different auror and landed a successful slashing hex, though the auror managed to stun them soon after.

Two cloaked figures disapparated before a spell could be thrown. The black smoke that swallowed their bodies told Hermione what she already knew, Death Eaters were targeting her.

If she was a betting woman, she'd put money on Antonin Dolohov as one of them.

Ginny and Harry arrived some time in between the ward specialists finishing tuning up her wards, and the sun rising.

"These attacks are only going to get worse Hermione, do you want to come stay with us?" Harry prodded her. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table with Hermione, while Harry fumbled around the kitchen trying to make a simple pot of tea.

"We can't live in fear." She pulled her sleep shirt up over her chin, gnawing at it.

Ginny stared, scrutinizing Hermione's face. She was trying to read her best friend's mind. Glean something insightful from in between her smattering of freckles and the worrying of her lip. Hermione had a perpetual fear of disturbing other people, of being a burden. Ginny knew it was a losing battle.

"Besides, Grimmauld has been attacked too, as well as the Burrow, and Ron and Padma's place." Hermione sunk even further into her shirt.

"Alright, fair point. But you're alone, Hermione," Harry argued.

He was carrying two teacups to the table and Ginny walloped him in the gut when he set them down. His cheeks reddened and he shrugged hopelessly. Hermione felt her stomach drop. She knew Harry didn't mean she couldn't protect herself, or to rub in the fact that everyone else was happily paired up, but it still stung.

She couldn't help the creeping hurt that colored her cheeks an angry crimson. She was only twenty one. If anything, her friends were odd for settling down so early. Though, Hermione knew that after war times, there often tended to be a lot of young weddings and a baby boom. She hated the feeling that she was behind, having always been the most put together of her group.

"You absolute dolt," Ginny chastised Harry, before turning to Hermione, "That wasn't how he meant it, he just meant that there's no one here to back you up. You know Harry worries, we all do. You're our family and we want to protect you." Hermione shrugged out of her hiding spot in her shirt and sat taller.

"I know, I just don't want to live according to this."

She sipped the tea, only barely noticing that it was scalding. The burn was welcome. Feeling the shocking sting was the most sensation she'd experienced since calling the aurors.

Ginny looked at Harry and then back at Hermione. Harry looked lost but Ginny seemed to have made a decision.

"How about we go to the muggle fair today? I heard it's happening in muggle London this weekend? May be a good opportunity to decompress?" Ginny offered. Harry beamed, looking like his eleven year old self when the trolley came by on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione allowed a giggle to escape herself and agreed. Time with her godson and the Potters would be perfect to calm down.

"We'll meet you there at six, then?" Harry asked. Hermione confirmed and they sat with her as they finished their tea. It was quiet, but in a good way. They were simply there for her, it was all she could've asked for.

Ginny crushed Hermione to her chest, while Harry patted an irritated Crookshanks on his head and cooed affectionately. He gave Hermione a pained look and dropped a soft kiss on her cheek before following his wife.

Hermione settled back onto her couch and stared. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, just looking. Her home had never felt so foreign. Even her shelves seemed empty, void of emotion or attachment. She'd never noticed how lonely the home felt. There may be a lot of things in the home, but it was not full in the way Grimmauld was, and it was the antithesis of the Burrow.

Crookshanks jumped up and climbed into her lap, providing a bit of comfort with his warm body and purrs. He was uncharacteristically affectionate. Sitting up on his hind legs and using her chest to hold himself up as he nudged her chin. His wet nose was cold on her flushed skin and his whiskers tickled her nose, causing her to flinch. She gave in to him, gathering him in her arms and burying her face in his belly.

The cat was part kneazle, and so he'd always been more keen and intelligent than the average cat. His purrs vibrated against her ears loudly, but it brought her some solace.

She spent most of the afternoon on the couch with her cat. She slipped between unconsciousness and despondence without much distinction until it was time to meet with the Potters.

Hermione walked along the street with James' grubby baby hands scratching at her neck as he tried to hold on. Her neck hurt a bit from his weight, and his nails digging into her skin, but she loved the toddler so much that it didn't matter. Half of her elevated mood was real and due to the child and his parents, the other half was an ancient facade Hermione had perfected many years ago.

Harry and Ron always needed her, she couldn't fall apart. So, she didn't. She put on a brave face and tucked away her feelings, leaving them for the privacy of her four poster, or sleeping bag, or any place she got alone time.

Her chest felt more full with James in her arms. He was truly the product of both his parents. He had Harry's proclivity for trouble and Ginny's unapologetic bravery. It was the most that could be determined about the young child, as he had only just turned one.

"What should we do first?" Ginny asked the small group.

James babbled happily and patted Hermione's cheek. Since his motor functions were far from refined, it was more a series of slaps.

"Oh James! That's a fantastic idea!" Hermione enthused, bouncing the boy on her hip. His beaming smile was lopsided, only one dimple.

"What'd he suggest?" Ginny asked her faux-skeptically.

"Funnel cake." Harry declared seriously.

Ginny rolled her eyes but diverted to the sweetly smelling stall. While Ginny stood in the cue and waited to pay, Harry lifted his toddler out of Hermione's arms.

"Thank you," Hermione breathed, massaging and stretching her arms, "Though I wish I could hold him forever, he's getting a little heavy."

"You're telling me. Mini Prongs is like an anvil after more than five minutes."

Hermione chuckled. The sound felt foreign after the day she had.

"Hermione, really, are you okay?" Harry lowered his head, looking over his glasses into her eyes.

His stare made her feel vulnerable. Like any platitude she may try to feed him will be devoured, leaving only the naked truth.

"No." She whispered, ducking her head.

"I know. Please let us in. You've always been good at putting on a strong face. After what you experienced today, I know you aren't this okay." He was begging now. Eyes flickering between the oblivious toddler pulling his hair and Hermione.

"I'm trying. I always felt that I had to be the strong, level minded one. I understand that you all are here for me, but I don't even know how to talk to you about these things." She waved her hands in front of her face, as though if she gestured enough, she could disrupt the discomfort.

"I'm terrified half the time Harry. I had to go to therapy and it's been years, I still have crippling anxiety and fairly frequent panic attacks. How am I supposed to feel when you all seem fine? You moved on, I can't." Her voice was matter of fact, but her face was distressed.

"Hermione," Harry sighed, "I wake Ginny up screaming more nights than not. Ginny still asks me what is real sometimes, having Voldemort in her mind for a year messed her up. None of us are okay, and I don't know that you ever really move on from the worst things that happen to you, you learn to accept it."

Hermione cocked her head, her eyes scanned him intently. It was her problem solving face, she was trying to puzzle out what she'd just heard. Her distress momentarily forgotten in favor of reconciling this version of Harry with the boy he was.

"I'm not the boy I was. You aren't the girl you were. You don't need to be strong for us, you never did, and I can't make up for the years that you lacked support, but I can make bloody certain they don't continue." He was stern. It was a chastising born from love and care.

"When did you become so wise, Harry Potter?" She asked him softly, throwing her arm around his neck and giving him a side hug around the baby in his arms.

"I learned from the best," he answered swiftly.

Hermione gave him an understated smile and a nod. Ginny rejoined them with two funnel cakes. Hermione took one from her hands and she immediately pulled a small piece off and gave it to her baby. She fed a second piece to her husband, who chomped at the air until she placed a piece in his mouth.

"What'd I miss?" Ginny eyed Hermione knowingly.

"I've discovered your husband is rather wise, I was also chastised by him with his Dad voice." Hermione filled her in.

Ginny scoffed, "Wise arse maybe, and that voice is surprisingly good. I was being petty the other day about Millie on the Harpies and he gave me a right scolding."

Hermione giggled while Harry protested his wife's assessment of his wisdom.

They made their way to the Ferris wheel and while they waited, Hermione turned to Ginny.

"How is training going? Glad to be back?"

"Oh gods yes. It's only been a year but I feel so out of shape." Ginny moaned.

"Tell that to my bruised arms!" Harry whined, "You punch me too often and you don't even know your strength."

"Stop being such a git then," she fired back, smiling wickedly.

"You consider any time I disagree with you, me being a git." Harry complained. Ginny just shrugged grabbing her son and rocking him absentmindedly. Harry sighed in relief the second the boy was taken from his arms.

"How much of the team is the same?" They were nearing the front of the line.

"Two girls retired, three were traded. Not too different, I think we have a strong first string." She assessed.

"Good, I can't wait to watch you play again, I know how much you missed it."

Ginny cackled, "Hermione Granger can't wait to watch a Quidditch game? Someone pinch me." Hermione scrunched her nose and flicked Ginny's forehead.

"I love supporting you. I still hate Quidditch." Hermione told her matter-of factly.

They boarded a car on the ferris wheel and were on the rise. The sun was setting and was mostly inky night. The horizon was a blaze of oranges and reds, putting a fiery backdrop on the fair stands. Fairy lights were strung all around the field. Ringing bells signified a child winning a toy. Vendors called out their fares. A band played on a small stage to the left.

Hermione found herself distracted from the larger, flashier view, in favor of the quiet scene of love and devotion in front of her.

Ginny and Harry were pointing to lights and people below. Their son clutched to Ginny's chest. They pointed at the view and cooed at James. What could have been scary for a young child, was instead exciting and captivating. James fixated on the glow of a popcorn stand, then another ride, less tame than this one. They got to watch their child experience this for the first time. They caught eyes over his head and gave each other a long contented smile.

Hermione felt a spark of hope. If Harry, who was "the boy who lived, and died, and lived again" and Ginny, the girl who was trapped with Voldemort in her mind, could find happiness, maybe she could too.

July 11, 2002

Draco left the office just before the end of the day. He needed to catch Potter before he left for the day. He had therapy in two hours and wanted to be able to report that he'd knocked Saint Potter off his list of amends.

Harry was one of the most daunting amends he needed to make, he'd tormented and insulted him most of their lives. Not to mention the things he did during the war.

Draco twisted his fingers so much he was surprised he had yet to dislocate one. The offices were fairly bustling still, everyone trying to wrap up their workday and escape. One intern at a cubicle was magically binding documents so quickly, while also reading some kind of report, that he bound his own hand into one and yelped in pain. Draco might have found it hysterical a few years ago. Today he was more focused on his task than mocking an intern.

He reached the administrative offices of the DMLE and stalled. His feet moved dumbly and his shoes caught on the carpet. His chest grew hot and he had to focus hard not to rely on the steel walls he so often slammed around his mind for protection.

He resolved himself not to occlude when he decided to deliver amends. It was both what he thought was deserved to the people he delivered the amends to, and a punishment for himself. He caused harm, now he should feel the discomfort and pain of apologizing. He needed to feel his repercussions wholly.

He approached the open door of Potter's office and forced a stiff arm to comply into knocking.

"Come in," Harry called without looking.

"Potter," Draco greeted with a small nod, "Do you have a moment?"

"Uh, sure," Harry signed a piece of the parchment in front of him and then dropped the quill in the ink pot. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I have something I need to say to you."

"Oh-um, okay?"

"I'm just going to do this. I have been going to therapy and I have found that I've harmed many people in my life. I am ashamed and angry at the way that I treated many people. I have been working to make amends with the people I harmed."

"Potter, uh, Harry, I understand if you can't receive this or do not believe me. I have not given you any reason to trust me and my past actions were consistent and plentiful, so I know this may seem disingenuous."

"I want to apologize, I taunted you and bullied you for years. I was a coward when you were held in my home, both to you and your friends. I had a responsibility to do the right thing and I continuously chose wrong. I believed my family and I wanted to protect them, I made many misguided choices based on those feelings. So, um, I am sorry for any and all harm I caused you."

Draco's voice was hoarse by the time he finished. If he could see himself, he figured he was paler than usual. Harry just stared at him with a blank face. He searched the man's familiar green eyes for any indication of the way he felt. Instead, they just stared at each other for what felt like minutes.

"Malfoy, I appreciate it. I forgave you a long time ago. I have no energy to harbor old hatred, I've fought too many fights to focus on old feuds. I'm just kind of exhausted at this point." Harry's voice was quieter than Draco thought he'd ever heard. The shadows seemed to creep, his face suddenly aged years beyond his twenty one.

"I don't particularly like you. But, I have respect for the things you've done since the war. Besides, you didn't hand us over, I didn't testify in your trial because I felt obligated, I did it because I believed you could change. Besides, I nearly killed you with that sectumsempra in sixth year, so I suppose we're even." Harry shrugged.

Draco was stunned, "I suppose." It was all he could get out of his numb lips.

Draco turned to leave but Harry called out before he could step over the threshold.

"Hey, how is Hermione?"

Draco frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Her home was attacked on Sunday, four Death Eaters attacked her wards, I thought you would have known. Though, I guess Hermione never is one for talking about herself." Harry's brows pulled together. He pushed his glasses up to rub his nose in frustration.

Draco froze. His mind cycling through the new information. Hermione had been more jumpy the last week, her eyes wore plum bruises from sleeplessness. He'd assumed she was experiencing nightmares, it was how he looked after them.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Hermione was still being targeted by the remnants of the Dark Lord's followers. She was everything they wanted destroyed: a successful and prolific young muggleborn witch. Not to mention a war heroine. Still, he didn't expect the anger that burned through his stomach, pouring into his veins and turning into molten rage.

He wanted to confront her and ask why she didn't tell him. She didn't owe him any information about her life, he realized. She hadn't told him over the past four days, and so he resolved himself not to mention it unless she decides to tell him. Despite his better judgment. Despite the small voice in the back of his mind that demanded he insist she let him look at her wards.

"She doesn't seem to be sleeping. Check on her, Potter." Draco asserted. He strode from the office directly to the lift. The whole time his mind played nauseating potential scenarios involving green sparks and unruly yet angelic curls.

Draco,

I haven't been sleeping well, sorry this letter is late.

I promise I'm just a person. The faces people see are not always our truest, I imagine you agree with that sentiment.

Periwinkle, huh. Not surprised about green being runner up.

Favorite movie? It's a tie between When Harry Met Sally and Scream. Two very different movies.

What was your favorite subject in Hogwarts? Mine was Charms. For someone who didn't grow up with magic, charms was everything I dreamed, except I could do it.

Best,

Hermione.