I'm back. I've missed you all, though I don't think you missed me very much :( Where did my peeps go? New peeps? I see the stats and I appreciate it, but I want to hear from you. I've got questions and I want to hear what everyone thinks! It really does affect how I write (something I'm trying to improve) so even the constructive criticism is worth it. Also it helps me write faster, so you should all like that.

Less to address this chapter in terms of comments.

Honoria Granger: I snorted when I noticed what you called Ron. I'd nearly forgotten that beautiful nickname. I think I might've mentioned it in an earlier chapter, but in case I didn't, this isn't going to be one of those quick "omg I love you and you love me" kind of stories. I don't think that stays very true to the characters. I mean it took Hermione and Ron how long to get together despite mutual interest? Neither of them are the type to rush into anything.

I'm liking the idea of keeping the previews of the next chapter, what do y'all think? Maybe they inspire you to write little old Cherry a review ;p

Love,

Cherry


New Years passed with relative ease, Hermione thought. Ron likely disagreed, judging by the way he buried himself in work, but Hermione was happy to ignore the change. The few nights he spent over, she noticed paperwork regarding the Malfoy Manor case sticking out of his disheveled bag, and out of curiosity, she asked him about it one night over dinner.

"There's nothing new yet." Ron noted, disgruntled. "Absolute nutter, whoever did it. Why dismember the bodies if he just wanted the arm?"

"Could be a she." Hermione pointed out. "No sense in ruling women out of this."

"Then she's an absolute nutter." Ron amended.

"I take it Malfoy knows now? About his parents." She brought the subject up hesitantly, uncertain she wanted the answer.

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "Let Harry take that one." Ron shuddered. "Imagine if I'd told him. 'Thanks for the news, Weasel, looks like me and my inheritance are still worth more than you.'" Ron straightened his long frame, pursing his lips and putting on a posh voice. Hermione's stomach knotted at the impersonation, knowing that unless Draco was a complete sociopath (still), there's no way he'd have such a reaction to losing both his parents. Hermione didn't push the subject, realising Ron didn't understand the experience of having both his mother and father die. He didn't even know what it was like to lose one.

Come the second week of January, Hermione made an agreement with herself to visit Draco, if to only offer her condolences. Of course, it would be under the guise of a checkup, but as she sat at her desk between patients, she wrote up a letter to Draco to set up a visit.

From the Desk of Hermione Granger

Healer

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

First Floor - Creature Induced Injuries

Malfoy,

As your healer, I write to you regarding your well being.

In the next week, do you have an hour or so to spare? I should like to perform a comprehensive exam to be certain you are not still suffering from any afflictions related to your injuries.

Do let me know.

Hermione Granger

Hermione folded and sealed the parchment and tied it to the leg of Iaso, a hospital owl. She flew out the window with her mission in mind, disappearing into the sky. Hermione returned to her patients, treating plenty of pixie bites from a group of Armenian tourists, and when she headed to the fifth floor for her break, she found Iaso waiting for her, a different note wrapped around her leg. Hermione took it and fed her a bit of treat, sitting down before opening the letter.

Granger,

Must you insist on a visit? I'm perfectly well.

I suppose you'll have some know-it-all explanation so I'll save you the trouble of giving me a scolding (sorry to disappoint). Is Wednesday good for you? I can go to the hospital after work.

~Draco Malfoy~

Hermione rolled her eyes at the sarcasm and wrote out her response as Iaso waited.

From the Desk of Hermione Granger

Healer

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

First Floor - Creature Induced Injuries

Malfoy,

Let me save you a trip to the hospital (and save myself the unnecessary workplace embarrassment) and come to you. Wednesday does work for me. I can Floo over at six o'clock.

Hermione Granger

She sent the response and had a cup of tea, reading up on the latest in politics thanks to the Daily Prophet someone left on the table.

"Absolute rubbish." She muttered as she tossed the paper in the bin, the photo of Minster Shacklebolt crying out in surprise. She apologised halfheartedly to the picture, knowing it didn't matter, but her muggle roots wouldn't let her get used to treating things irresponsibly when they responded poorly.

As she cleaned out her cup, Iaso flew back into the window and Hermione retrieved the paper, reading it through.

Granger,

If you're certain I can't come to St. Mungo's (me embarrass you? Impossible. I am the picture of propriety), I suppose you may come won't be able to Floo in, though; there are enchantments in place - admittedly some since the seventeenth century that I don't know how to remove - so you'll have to Apparate to the front gate. I will meet you there to let you in.

~Draco Malfoy~

Hermione held the note a little tighter than necessary, her fingers hurting. While she didn't like Apparating, that wasn't the issue that bothered her: the front gate. The front gate where Bellatrix brought her, Harry, and Ron for Draco's approval before calling in Voldemort. The front gate where Bellatrix brought her to a fate that now branded her.

"Thank you, Iaso." Hermione spoke to the bird, who blinked once before flying off to the hospital owlery.

Pushing the visit from her mind, Hermione returned to work, sighing in relief when her shift was finally over. She Flooed home and changed from her hideous green robes into a wool skirt, stockings, and the jumper Mrs. Weasley had knit her for Christmas. It was chunky and a curious shade of blue somehow mixed with brown, but at least it was warm.

After fixing the tips of her hair, Hermione returned to her fireplace and Flooed to Harry and Ginny's home for their monthly dinner. Ginny had insisted on such an event, justifying that everyone was so busy that they would never get together without a set plan, and Hermione agreed, knowing that she needed a date on the calendar to keep her on schedule.

"Evening, Hermione." Ginny greeted from the kitchen once she saw the brunette in the doorway. "You're the first to arrive. It looks like Harry and Ron and trapped at work still." She nodded at the eagle owl sitting in its cage in the corner. "Just got Harry's message."

"That's all right." Hermione placated, knowing that Ginny had her hands full (literally) with dinner and children. "Is there anything I can do to help you get caught up until they get here?"

"Oh Hermione, you're a corker, would you go change Albus?" Ginny gestured to the infant strapped to her chest and laughed when she saw Hermione grimace. "You should see your face! No, no, I'll go change Albus, would you mind watching the pot?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, letting Ginny run off to the bathroom. She watched all the dishes cooking until Ginny returned, at which point the two decided Harry and Ron could eat together if they wanted to; they were hungry. Ginny got James and Albus to bed while Hermione plated rice and curry, setting the two bowls across from each other. Ginny returned and happily took a seat while Hermione poured two glasses of water.

"Thanks." Ginny spoke as Hermione set the cups down.

"Thank you for making dinner. Like always." Hermione responded, taking the seat opposite Ginny.

"You know, you don't actually have to wear those." Ginny pointed to Hermione's jumper, grimacing at the thought of her own mustard yellow garment laying at the bottom of her drawer.

"I love these." Hermione defended the piece of clothing protectively. "Your mother knows the perfect balance between comfort and warmth."

"Completed with a pinch of man-repellent." Ginny snickered. "Honestly, Hermione, that thing gives you the appearance of an eighty year old witch with too many cats. It's a wonder Ron hasn't burned them all up yet." She took a bite of curry.

"I caught him trying to toss them once." Hermione confessed. "Had the whole lot in his arms and he was staring at the bin, weighing his options, when I caught him."

Ginny laughed, the image of a caught-red-handed Ron in her head. "That should be a sign, you know." Ginny pointed out. "One that says: 'don't wear these clothes when we're together.'"

"If this is the worst thing I've dressed in, so be it." Hermione argued, knowing that at this point in the relationship, Ron cared less about her attire than he cared about her investment in the relationship.

"You could add some interest to the bedroom and wear nothing but one of those jumpers. See if he likes them then." Ginny suggested and Hermione choked on her bite.

"Man alive, Ginny, that's your brother!" Hermione exclaimed and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Yes, and you're my friend, and I have to have girl talk with you so it's your fault it has to be about my brother." Ginny noted, shifting her attention easily to the fireplace as Harry and Ron came walking in.

"Evening." Harry greeted, kissing Ginny on the cheek as he passed the table to get to the kitchen.

"Evening." Ginny returned, eyeing Hermione when Ron didn't show her any affection as he said hello. Hermione shrugged, not wanting to waste her breath explaining the turmoil they were in at the moment.

"Blimey, curry again?" Ron called from the kitchen, the awkward moment forgotten as Ginny began bickering with her brother.

"It might do you some good to broaden your diet, Ron." Ginny pointed out. "You can't live on only shepherd's pie and Sunday roast your whole life."

"Yeah, but you've made it the last two times we've been over." Ron finally acknowledged Hermione's presence as he sat down next to her.

"I think Muggle London is finally rubbing off on Ginny." Hermione commented, knowing that Ginny's latest food obsession could be attributed to the time Hermione took her to lunch at an Indian restaurant.

The dinner was calm, and Hermione appreciated it greatly. There was some stimulating conversation, witty banter, and even serious discussion over tea. All in all, the night was pleasant and reminded Hermione why she was still with Ron, despite the rough patches.

Ron Flooed home with Hermione, only to explain that he had a heavy workload with the Malfoy case, to which Hermione reassured him she wouldn't be offended if he went to his place for the night. He thanked her profusely and Apparated out of her flat, leaving her to the quiet noise of city life outside her window. She was accustomed to it, and on some nights - like that night - the noise kept her head from getting too silent as she tried to sleep.

The evening she was set to meet Draco at Malfoy Manor, Hermione returned home after work at about five, having worked a twelve hour shift beginning early in the morning. She tiredly changed from her work robes into jeans and a long sleeved shirt, letting her hair down from its bun. She ran her fingers through it to loosen the knots before plaiting it, yawning as she hung up her work attire and made herself a cup of coffee in an attempt to rouse herself awake, waving her wand briefly to pack up her purse with some medical supplies she had taken home just in case Draco did need treatment again.

She cleaned up a bit while she waited for the time to pass, willing her eyes not to pass over the clock as it neared six. The knot in her stomach grew, knowing the time was growing closer and closer, and when it was five minutes to six, she gathered up her belongings and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she Apparated with a quiet "pop" to the front gates of Malfoy Manor.

When she opened her eyes, they shot directly to the gate in front of her, still black wrought iron and looming. Even in the hours of dusk, its intricate, lavish design was daunting and cold. She didn't like it.

"Evening, Granger."

Hermione jumped at the familiar drawl, her attention brought down to the lanky, blonde boy in front of her.

"Evening." She greeted, readjusting the bag on her shoulder. "Are you going to let me in?" She looked at the gate then back to Draco.

A soft smirk bloomed on his face. "I'm considering it. Then again, this is a nice position, isn't it? Me, on this side of the gates, you, on that side." He gestured between them and Hermione sighed.

"Draw it out if you must, Malfoy, I'll be checking your injuries tonight no matter how much you protest. You are my patient, after all." She stared at him expectantly and Draco quirked his mouth, waving a hand indifferently, the gates creaking opening in reaction.

"You should oil those." Hermione pointed out as she passed over the threshold, focusing on the present. "And perhaps consider watering your garden while you're at it." She muttered, eyeing the brittle, dying hedges lining the walkway.

"Are you looking for a job?" Draco retorted, joining her as the two walked together to the estate in the near distance. "Sorry, I have a strict 'no Golden Trio' hiring policy. You understand, I'm sure."

"You wouldn't want me for a groundskeeper." Hermione brushed over the sarcastic comment, growing used to them. "I kill every plant I touch. Can't even keep a cactus alive."

"So divination, and horticulture." Draco spoke, glancing up at the sky.

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked over at him, confused.

"I'm keeping a list of subjects you're not good at." Draco explained like it was a common activity. "We're up to two now. Unless you have any you'd like to add." He looked down at her, waiting for an answer. Hermione thought, chewing her lip.

"Flying." She admitted.

A smile broke out on Draco's face. "Really? Hermione Granger can't fly? How were you top student if you couldn't fly?"

Hermione gaped at his expression. "We didn't all grow up on the back of a broomstick. Some of us used them for sweeping." She retorted, folding her arms across her chest, Draco chuckling at her indignation.

"My apologies." He corrected. "I'm still adding it to the list." Ignoring the miffed noise Hermione made, Draco opened the front door and gestured for Hermione to walk through. The reality of the situation hit her again and she looked into the Manor, forcing herself to not to let the past rule her life. With her chin high and her shoulders squared, she stepped into the foyer, her breath leaving her lungs nearly immediately.

It was the smell that hit her first. Clean, sterile, acrid. The scent was familiar in an all too unpleasant way. She bit back the memory of being dragged across the marble floors. After the smell came the sound - or lack of sound. There was nothing. Not a single sign that the home was in use. When Draco shut the door behind them, it echoed through the open space, reminding Hermione of the wicked laughter that reverberated through the Manor the same way.

It was the hand on the back of her arm that brought her out of her trance, reminding her of why she was there.

"I don't have a hospital wing, but Thrump converted my office into a somewhat clinical space." Draco commented, lightly steering her toward the staircase. Hermione was thrilled to be going up a flight rather than down the right corridor, pausing on the third step when she processed what Draco had said.

"Thrump?" She asked quizzically, narrowing her eyes when Draco didn't readily respond. "Malfoy..." She spoke warningly and Draco caved.

"Oh all right, he's a house-elf." Draco explained, holding a finger up to silence Hermione before she could begin. "He's properly cared for, mind you. Has his own room, makes his own schedule, bathes everyday, the germophobic little bugger." He muttered the last bit. "And he refuses payment so don't even start in on the 'slavery' thing you took up in school." Draco finished, Hermione's mouth left hanging open. She hadn't expected such a thorough response. It almost disappointed her when she couldn't scold him.

"Well that's because he's been indoctrinated to believe he doesn't deserve payment," was her retort. Draco snorted, able to tell she was grasping for something to pick at.

"Sure." He agreed coolly, gesturing for Hermione to continue her ascent up the stairs. She obliged, letting Draco take the lead once they reached the landing. He led her down two halls, the paintings on the wall leering at her as she passed them.

"Your home is rather uninviting." Hermione announced, making certain the portraits could hear her. None of them seemed embarrassed. "Have you thought about taking any of them down or do you like the company?" She asked as Draco turned to see what she meant.

He shrugged halfheartedly, stopping at a door near the end of the hall. "Years upon years of the Malfoy bloodline grace these halls." He told Hermione, though it didn't sound like he was gloating. "My father liked them. He said they encompassed the Malfoy name and to keep them in mind when we make decisions." A look Hermione couldn't place flitted across his sharp features. "I have yet to redecorate."

Realising that she was probably pushing an issue she wasn't quite ready to discuss, Hermione changed the subject. "Are you going to open that door and let me examine you, or are we going to have to do it out here? With all of them watching." She jerked her head toward the image of a particularly stuffy looking woman that had to have been painted no more recent than the 1700s. The woman harrumphed noisily before folding her arms and turning her back to them. With a sneer, Draco shook his head, opening the door.

"After you, Granger."


Draco began walking Herimone down the hall in case she got lost, nearly tipping over when she whipped around to point at him, her brown eyes sparkling with intrigue.

"How did the murderer get into your home that night? Did they use the Floo network?"

Draco's eyes widened at the question.