"HERMIONE!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open, all drowsiness that had previously resided in her body fleeing like a stray cat shooed away by a loud sound.

Silence followed after the yell, and Hermione hoped with both fingers crossed that it was her sleep deprived brain playing games with her. When the silence carried on, Hermione proceeded to close her eyes, hoping that she could scrape up the remaining remnants of exhaustion in her body and hopefully mould it into at least five hours of shut eye.

"HERMIONE!" This time the call was accompanied by loud, booming knocks. Hermione sat up, alarmed by the loud noise. She snatched her wand from her bedside table, paranoia tangling her thoughts, into one recurring thought.

Could it be a thief, or an armed robber?

What kind of robber knocks on the door? And if it is a robber, why do they know my name? Hermione's mind countered, trying and failing miserably to assure herself that she was in no real danger, but deep within the confides of her heart she knew who that voice belonged to. She just refused to believe that he had come back for her.

With stealthy steps, she walked out of her bedroom and to the living room, her wand held in front of her and a hex sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Her heart thumped in her chest wildly, as she desperately hoped that it wasn't who she thought it was, but from the way her palms quickly formed perspiration and her legs became flaccid, she was pretty sure it was him banging on her door in the dead of the night.

But why? After all this time, why now, when I feel like my life is under control?

Taking a deep breath to compose her raging nerves, she waved her wand along with the incantation.

"Alohomora." With a click the door flew open.

The first thing that hit her was the distinct smell of firewhiskey that was being emitted. She didn't drink firewhiskey, as it was too strong for her, but she knew the smell from the many parties Gryffindor house threw. In fact, it was one of the smells she associated with her beloved house's common room.

The second thing to hit her was a quite large, heavy body, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her lips as she was backed into the wall.

The third and final thing to hit her was realisation when she got a good glance at the intruder's face. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart stilled.

"H-Harry." She had hoped, to no avail, that it wasn't Harry Fucking Potter at her door at twelve midnight, but sometimes hope wasn't enough was it?

Cursing profusely while clutching at his forehead, was none other than Harry Potter, the man notorious for being the one to break Hermione's heart.

Like a waterfall, the memories washed over her.

Neither of the two said a single word, both lost for words as they stared at the other, both reminiscing about the good and remembering the bad.

"Blimey Hermione." Harry was the one who finally shattered the stillness. His words carried the burning smell of firewhiskey into her nostrils. "You look-" He hiccuped. "You look bloody...b-bloody fantastic... You l-look..." A chuckle broke through his almost incoherent slur of words as the alcohol toyed with his brain.

Hermione bit her lip, her heart putting up iron walls as a defence against any of his words.

She let her eyes linger over her former lover, drinking in his rugged and dishevelled look. His usually messy raven curls were even messier than usual. It triggered the memory of the countless times she had ran her fingers through the silky black locks as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Then her eyes fell to his own green, bespectacled ones, the ones that once held love as they gazed at her.

He had the most beautiful pair of eyes.

Hermione felt her iron walls dent.

The rest of his body followed in her scrutiny, her eyes scanning over his well sculpted form. She could almost see his muscular torso underneath his untucked and dishevelled shirt.

She noticed a crack running across one of his lenses, and resisted the urge to reach over and snatch the glasses off his face so she could mend them like she did when they had first met.

"What do you want Harry?" Hermione barked harshly.

"You." He said, before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Her iron walls had been reduced to frail sheets of tinfoil that fluttered precariously around her heart.

"Harry James Potter, if you know what's good for you, you will leave my house." She threatened, her voice fluttering just as the thin sheets of foil were.

"No no I-I'm serious Mione. I hic want y-you! I've always hic wanted you!' A shaky breath left her mouth at his words. Her tinfoil guards collapsed, leaving her heart vulnerable to the blow of his words.

A small irrational part of her mind wanted her to drop her insecurities and jump into the Boy Who Lived's arms. That same part of her mind wanted her to reciprocate his words, to show him that he belonged with her and not with the mother of his kids and the woman he married.

But the logical part of her mind could not stress how wrong it was for Harry to come to her house intoxicated, and how wrong it was for him to be professing his love for her when he had a pregnant wife and a son waiting for him at home. This part of her mind still held the bitterness and anger that she felt when Harry had left her for Ginny, and wanted nothing more than to watch Harry go through the same heartache he had put her through all those years ago.

"Who the fuck do you think you are and why do you think it's okay to come and say all these things to me after you dropped me like a hot potato and ran into the arms of Ginny?! Harry, you may not know this because you were too busy creating a happily ever after with Ginny, but while you galloped away onto the sunset on your white steed with Ginny, I was left trying to put together the small fragments of my shattered heart! I was in a really dark place for a really long time, and that was because of you! And now when I really feel like I finally have a firm grasp on my life-on my love life, in fact- you turn up out of the blue, professing your love for me!" Harry remained silent all through her rant, his eyes planted on his feet like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Her heart was bruised, badly.

Her eyes glistened with tears she just didn't want to unleash, especially in front of the man that had broke her.

"I had loved you Harry! I had loved you with everything in me, but that just wasn't enough for the Golden Boy now was it?" Each word dripped with enough poison to wipe out the lives of every living being in Great Britain.

"Harry," He voice cracked like the crack on Harry's lens. "I-I may be many things, but I'm not a fucking tart, so what the fuck makes you think I want to the your treacle tart?"

As the spell of silence had been lifted from Harry, he began to speak, only to be quickly shut down by Hermione.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

"Hermione-"

"GET OUT!"

"I-I love you Hermes."

Her eyelids fell shut, just as the crack of apparition sounded in the room, the sound reverberating off the walls and into her ear.

Hermes. Ron called her Mione. Harry called her Hermes.

"You're special to me Hermes.""No one will replace you in my heart Hermes. Your face is etched onto it.""I love you Hermes."

"I'm sorry Hermes."

Her legs buckled underneath her own weight, causing her to fall on her knees. She tried to push down the ball of tears that sat in her throat, but it relented, eventually winning against her emotional strength.

Her body convulsed with silent sobs, tears rolling down her flushed face.

Once again Harry had broke her.


That fairly extraordinary Sunday concluded with Hermione crying herself to sleep as the regret and grief solidified her heart, the encounter with her lost lover replaying on loop in her mind.

After that, the days seemed to roll by as she drowned in a pool of hatred and heartbreak.

She had taken sick leave from work for the week, but the guilt of skiving off work for something as trivial as heartbreak coupled with the emotional pain left her feeling even more dismal.

Actually, she was right to take sick leave, she was sick!

The diagnosis being that she was suffering from a severe case of Harry Potter.

And at this point Hermione was certain it was fatal.

It was only on Thursday that Hermione had revived from her blues.

"By Merlin this is ridiculous! Hermione he's moved on, and you should do the same!"

The less feint hearted part of her mind scolded.

"Yeah, he moved on with a piece of my heart..."

The broken hearted, desolate part of her mind sighed.

"You've endured worse! What's a little heartbreak to THE Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio?" It countered.

"It isn't just heartbreak. He was my everything, hell my world! I risked my life multiple times for him!"

Hermione quickly shut down the quarrel in her head before it spiralled into something worse and left her restrained in a straight jacket at St Mungos Psych Ward.

A distressed sigh slithered past her lips. But the voice in her head had a point. It wouldn't do well to mope around when she could continue with her life. There are plenty of fish in the sea right?

There's still that stupid meet up with Malfoy. An involuntary growl left her lips. The blasted thing had slipped her mind for most of the week.

What was that stupid blonde ferret playing at anyway? Just because he had saved her life once he thought that she suddenly owed him an immense amount of debt. Would it kill him to do something for somebody without expecting to be compensated in some way for it?

Friday rolled past in an uneventful blur, landing her on D-day. She moped around for most of the day, but when six rolled by she attempt to hold herself together, determined not to break down in front of the ferret. The last she wanted to do was show him that she was weak.

"Hermione, you're strong, you've got this." She chanted as she scrutinised herself in her full length mirror. The vault in her heart locked in her painful memories, incarcerating them in the prison of her heart. For the night she was going to be strong, outspoken, fearless Hermione, not mopey, depressed Granger.

Hermione believed by Malfoy standards, she looked decent. She was adorned in a maroon body con dress that hugged her petite figure, emphasising the subtle curves of her body Her soft hazel curls were pulled up in a bun, a few strands falling stray over her face which had a light coat of makeup. On her feet she wore red stilettos and since it was quite a chilly night, she pulled on a burgundy, cashmere sweater.

Grabbing her purse, she took one deep breath to fully compose herself before she vanished with the crack of apparition.

She appeared in front of the familiar heavy wrought iron gates of the ominous palace that was Malfoy Manor. Her breath thinned as she remembered the atrocities that took place in that home. She felt her scar tingle, Bellatrix's harsh crackle playing distantly in her head.

To her the Malfoy Manor was like a palace of darkness; if it's walls could talk it would speak of the horrors and the atrocious tortures many were subjected to at the hands of Voldemort and his minions.

Suck it up Hermione. Times have changed. Voldemort is dead, in fact he was killed by the same man you detest with all your heart.

A sudden crack sent her jumping in fear.

"Did I startle you Granger?" She was hit with a familiar musky scent before the deep baritone of his drawl sounded beside her. Turning she came face to face with non other than Draco Malfoy, who she noted had not overdressed for the occasion. He wore a white dress shirt that hugged his upper body tightly, emphasising his toned and well built physique and a pair of grey slacks that clashed with the quicksilver colour of his eyes. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows and two top buttons had been left unbuttoned, the creamy pale skin of his collarbone visible to her.

Just as Hermione had been scrutinizing Draco's appearance, Draco's eyes scanned over Hermione, drinking in her look. "I see you took 'decent' to a whole new level." He commented, his gaze causing goosebumps to grow atop her skin.

"Can we just get whatever this is over and done with?" Hermione sighed, bemused and already weary about his intentions.

"Okay." He held out his hand for Hermione to take, the breeze whipping at his platinum locks. "Take my hand so we can apparate into the manor."

Hermione took his hand quite gingerly, an unpleasant shock running through her body at the contact. She was holding the hand of her former enemy/ school bully, and as shocking as it was to admit he had pleasantly textured hands. To her it felt as if she had been holding a baby's hand instead of the grey eyed, blonde haired ferret's.

Draco apparated them into one of the manor's dining rooms that had already been set up to accommodate the two of them for dinner.

Upon arrival she snatched her hand away from his, disgusted at herself for missing the brief warmth his hand provided.

"Aw now Granger, you can't be treating me like that now. I mean you'll be closer to me than you think." Draco said, visibly amused.

Hermione scoffed, before walking over to one of the seats. "Can we just talk about whatever trap you're luring me into? Because I've had the most exhausting week and Saturday is sort of my rest d-" She was cut off from her ramblings by Draco. A growl of frustration slipped past her lips.

"Of course, Of course. But first, dinner. We can't talk of business on an empty stomach now!" His chuckle aroused Hermione's deep desire to punch him in the mouth. Memories of third year arose, the wistful thought of putting bratty third year Draco in his place causing her bad mood to almost disappear completely.

With a snap and a crack, a house elf appeared along with two plates of food, two empty flute glasses and a bottle of champagne that levitated beside her. "Master Malfoy, Atty is bring the food." The elf, Atty, said in her severely high voice. Atty struggled to bow in the flowing, slightly oversized royal blue dress she wore, a paper crown perched precariously atop her hairless head. "Thank you Atty. And for Merlin's sake stop bowing." Draco chastised.

"Atty's apologies Master Malfoy, Atty keeps forgetting!" She squeaked bashfully. She set the food in the table before disappearing with another crack.

All through the interaction Hermione hadn't said a word, as her mouth had been stunned into a O of shock.

Draco found great amusement at her shock.

"Shocked Granger?"

"I-I... Is that your house elf Malfoy?" Hermione said, her cool guise fitting back into place almost immediately.

"Yes Granger. Her name's Atty and believe it or not, she's the only one I have here." He confessed.

"And what of the rest?" Hermione inquired.

"They went to Hogwarts. Atty is the only one I kept because she brightens up the manor and well because Scorp likes her." Hermione found that Draco had already pulled back her seat while they were talking. Her lips curved upwards forming her first genuine smile since the week began.

"Wow. You keep surprising me tonight." Hermione said, genuinely impressed by his kind gesture. "Oh why thank you. From your that's the highest form of praise I could receive." He bantered, taking a seat across from her.

Hermione threw a glance at the plate that sat in front of her, her eyes scrutinizing its contents. A fairly sized square of casserole sat on the ornate China, accompanying it a helping of a bed of roasted vegetables. The aroma wafted into her nose, temporarily crippling her senses. Picking up her utensils, she began to dig into the food.

"So Malfoy, are you going to tell me about this thing you want me to do for you or are we going to be playing guessing games the entire night?" Hermione inquired, as she took a bite of her food, flavour bursting in her mouth as she chewed. Mm. It was definitely better than anything she could cook!

"Be patient Granger, soon you'll know. Wine?"

"I've had too much wine this week but sure." She said. With a lazy flick of his wrist the bottle levitated, emptying its crimson contents into her glass. Hermione peered over at Draco's empty glass, her previously abandoned scepticism at the blonde's hospitality latching back onto her. "You're not drinking?"

Draco shook his head. "I bought this bottle just for you Granger." Her eyes locked with Draco's, her hazel irises clashing with his stormy grey. The colour of his eyes had always intrigued her. There was something cryptic about them, something that suggested that there was more to the Pureblood wizard who had bullied her for most of the time they spent at Hogwarts.

Her eyes shifted from his, her face heating up upon realisation that she had been staring at the Malfoy heir for quite a while.

"Malfoy just tell me what it is you want from me." Hermione said, breaking the silence that suddenly befell the pair.

"Will you just wait Granger? The night's still young, we can discuss that matter anytime after dinner. That is unless you have a curfew Granger?" He asked, his pale eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as his words ignited her flames of rage.

"I'm not a fucking teenager Malfoy." She hissed, her eyes narrowed in rage.

"I'm not saying you're a child Granger. But with that foul mouth you might as well be." He retorted coolly, bringing another forkful of food into his mouth.

That's it! She abruptly got to her feet, causing the table to rattle slightly. "I should've never come here!" She growled in frustration. She was slightly disappointed that they couldn't keep that sliver of civility they had held briefly.

His nonchalant demeanour coupled with his quick witty retorts were enough to make her boil with rage like a kettle. If it wasn't for the fact that she currently wasn't in the right frame of mind due to Harry's surprise visit, she would've already annihilated him with her words.

"Did anyone tell you that you're hot when you're angry Granger?"

Hermione's mouth hung open in stunned silence as she stared at Malfoy like he had suddenly grown an extra head. Her mouth closed and opened like a goldfish, the words caught in her throat.

"O-Oh sod off Malfoy!" She said once she fell out of her stupor.

It was apparent that Draco Malfoy was the victor of their verbal war, and Hermione was the sore, sore, loser.

"Daddy?"

The smirk fell completely off his face as he quickly turned towards the direction of the voice. Hermione turned her attention to the door, her eyes meeting with her final shock of the evening.

A little boy, who looked no older than five, stood by the doorway of the dining room, his big silver eyes trying to register the scene before him. His platinum blonde hair was a dishevelled mess atop of his head and his green silk pyjamas hung loosely off his body. He clung onto a dusty, thick tome as his eyes scanned over the room before they landed on Hermione.

He tilted his head to the side inquisitively as his gaze pierced through Hermione. "Daddy," The little boy squeaked as he turned towards Draco who was on his feet and approaching him. "Is she my new tutor?"

Hermione's head spun as the little boy's words replaying in her mind like a broken record.

Draco had a son?


Authors note

And that's chapter two! I hope you enjoy this chapter :-)until next Thursday. Sayonara