Hello. How are you today? Not angry that I've taken so long to update, I hope.

I wanted to thank everyone who took the time to review. It's really helped me through this weird time to remember that you guys are on this journey with me and that it's worth finishing together (...did I just accidentally quote that awful line from the deathly hallows?).

SO again, thank you and keep it up, because I'm literally publishing this the second it's done because you all make it worth it. That's also code for please forgive me for any typos, this was written at top speed.

Love,

Cherry


Hermione's week was off to an extraordinarily boring start, she had decided, but perhaps that was because her life outside of work was becoming so enjoyable. Sunday had been spent in a strange bliss, having spent the day researching with Draco, if it could be called that. At some point, Hermione had convinced Draco they should work outside, since the weather was getting better. He had agreed; not because the weather was nice, but because she had been pouting when she asked, as if that would convince him to say yes (which it had, he'd supposed).

The thing was, once they were outside, they had gotten no work done. Hermione had never gotten a proper tour of the manor grounds, and while the hedges by the front gate were dark and foreboding, the landscape behind the house consisted of intricate topiaries, fountains, and more roses than Hermione could count. They had spent hours touring the grounds, and when the sun was just beginning to set, and Hermione began to realise just how handsome Draco looked in the warm glow of dusk, she excused herself and Flooed to Harry and Ginny's home for dinner, where she got to spend some much needed quality time with her friends and their children. She finally returned home at nearly midnight, her belly full and her heart content.

So yes, in comparison to her weekend, returning to work Monday felt terribly boring.

Things were beginning to look up when on Tuesday evening, Hermione received an owl from Neville, explaining that he had heard back from Mahoutokoro and that when she was free, she should stop by Hogwarts to review what they had sent him. It was of surprise to no one that the moment she finished her shift Wednesday, she Flooed to Hogwarts. Professor (well, Headmaster) McGonagall had barely allowed the access, admittedly worried that Hermione was up to something, since she rarely visited Hogwarts, but she knew that there was no stopping any of the Golden Trio when they wanted something, so she just pursed her lips and tipped her head at the young witch as she waved before making her way up the main stairs.

Hermione arrived at Neville's office in the castle just as a student was leaving and greeted him with a hug.

"I haven't opened anything yet." Neville explained. "Figured you should have the honor." He gestured for her to sit at his big, wooden desk. and she had to duck and squeeze her way through the plants that covered nearly every surface to get there. When she did, she found a thick parcel wrapped in twine Hermione sat down and unrolled the parchment, which looked to be nearly a metre long. Her eyes widened in excitement and Neville left her to her studies, though he was terribly curious about what the parchment said. He'd never had a particular interest in Witch's Ganglion, but that was largely because he has so many plants at his disposal that he was still learning about. But now that this information was at his fingertips, his urge to learn more about it was piqued.

Luckily, Hermione wasn't a quiet reader.

"Witch's Ganglion is comprised of singular roots that grow in water dense soil in the humid regions of Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and China. It has been seen growing as far West as India, but no one has managed to grow it in a controlled environment. Our attempts to grow it at Mahoutokoro have been unsuccessful, and as such, we have formed a relationship with a wizard in Kagoshima who has seen it grow on his family's land for centuries.

"We have found that Witch's Ganglion is incredibly fickle, and our attempts to harvest it for potion making have been almost entirely fruitless. Within the first three hours of being taken from its soil, the Witch's Ganglion begins to rot, so our testing of its capabilities has been limited to a handful of tests. Please find below our results after our nearly ten years of testing."

Hermione continued to read silently, occasionally mouthing the words out loud until she reached the end of the parchment. Neville waited patiently for her to explain what she had read.

"It looks as though it acts as a masking agent in most cases." Hermione explained, reviewing the parchment again as she underlined certain words. "Though when mixed with Thaumatagoria, it doesn't produce any quality of invisibility. I wonder what reaction is happening there." She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag and took notes, adding several new ingredients to her list to research.

"What have they attempted to mask?" Neville asked, taking a seat in one of the tufted chairs across from Hermione.

"It seems to be mainly domestic." Hermione explained as she continued to write. "They've managed to cover things like scuffs and damage to walls in homes, and it can be used as a cream for skin, mainly for blemishes or noticeable scars." Hermione took extra notes on that section, knowing that she was looking to cover more than a spot on her skin, but this would help for her research.

"Hardly seems worth it in those cases." Neville commented. "With it being so difficult to procure and use, why wouldn't you just purchase any masking product already on the shelves?"

"I think that's probably why they haven't done anything with this research." Hermione shrugged. "The information is sound, but without a more unique use or a better way to sustain and harvest the Witch's Ganglion, it's just information."

"And that's where you come in." Neville suggested, and Hermione smirked at the paper in front of her.

"You seem to think so highly of me." She responded, jotting down more notes about which potion ingredients she should be researching. "This is all just theory, you know."

"Everything is theory with you." Neville said, standing to spray some water on the leaves of a plant that hung by the window. It sighed in relief and snuggled down into its pot. "Until it's not theory and you're again proving how you're the brightest witch of our age."

Hermione winced at the title and looked up at Neville. "You know I never liked that nickname."

"Because it suggested there was a wizard brighter than you?" Neville grinned crookedly and Hermione bunched up a scrap piece of paper, throwing it at him. He dodged it and the small tree behind him caught it in its mouth. Neville had to wrestle with the plant to keep it from swallowing the unhealthy snack.

"Because what was the point of it? Sure, I'm extremely logical, but what does it really mean? If I don't do anything with it, what is it worth?"

"You're a healer, Mione, of course you're doing something with it." Neville straightened his shirt before sitting again.

"I'm a healer to witches and wizards who foolishly crossed paths with creatures that are prone to biting or stinging. That hardly means I'm doing anything with the knowledge I possess."

"Then what do you think you should be doing? You've already saved Britain once, are you planning to start a new war so you can do it again?"

That made Hermione laugh. The thought of going through her formative years at Hogwarts made her want to faint, but there was a small part of her that missed the eager pursuit of knowledge. To put that to the test to save others. To save her friends. She didn't miss the fighting part, but that had never been her favorite part, she just did it because it needed to be done and she couldn't expect others to put themselves in harm's way if she didn't.

"I miss feeling like I'm contributing to something that can genuinely improve the lives of many, not just the few that walk through the door of St. Mungo's."

"And this is doing that for you?" Neville questioned.

"Somewhat." Hermione tilted her head sideways and shrugged. "I...haven't felt this way in a while. And it's been a process to readapt to the things I once found important."

"It's Malfoy, isn't it?" Neville made a funny face. "Not that I want to know about your romances, but you do seem different since we spoke last summer, and that seems like the only new piece to the puzzle."

"It's not Malfoy." Hermione admonished (and hoped her hair covered her reddening ears). "Well, maybe it is somewhat but it's not because it's a romance. I think the introduction of Malfoy into my every day life has been less impactful than breaking up with Ron. We had fallen into a pattern that neither of us particularly enjoyed, so when that phase was over, it left me to decide what mattered to me. And that was making time for myself to rediscover what my passions are."

Neville bobbed his head, not particularly the best at talking about emotions, but he could understand where Hermione was coming from. Following the war, Neville moved from his grandmother's home in Leeds to London, where he spent time trying to determine what he should do with his life. It was only after he'd gotten reacquainted with Hannah Abbott one day at the Leaky Cauldron that he remembered how much he'd enjoyed the partner work they'd done in their fourth year in Herbology. After that, he pursued an apprenticeship with Gethsemane Prickle before she became the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. At that point, Neville went to Hogwarts to see if there were any open positions, and as luck would have it, one of the general education professors, Middlebee, was planning to resign that Spring. It was all sunshine and dittany after that.

So while Neville tried very hard to push the image of towheaded babies with unruly curls from his mind, he could imagine what Hermione was going through, and he hoped she found her happiness soon.

The two worked well into the evening, only pausing to sneak into the kitchens after dinner to steal a tray of tarts and roast before disappearing back into Neville's office when the head chef chased them away. They ate in his office, and Hermione watched curiously as Neville fed a particularly round bush a piece of stilton cheese.

Their conversation after eating was casual, and Hermione mainly directed questions at Neville so she didn't spend the entire visit talking about herself. They spoke of his students, the other professors, Hannah, and how the pair of rabbits they owned had just given birth to an entire fleet of baby bunnies. Their plan had been to keep one or two and rehome the rest, but when Neville saw the look the mother rabbit gave him at the suggestion, he refused to give any away, which is how he came to be the proud father of eleven rabbits. During the winter, they stayed with Hannah in London, but they were due to come visit Neville when the weather warmed. "They're going to love the grounds," he had gushed with infectious enthusiasm.

When Hermione began to grow tired, she slid her shoes back on and stood up, wistfully glancing at the letter sent from Mahoutokoro, remembering her agreement to leave the materials behind.

"Don't make that face." Neville pointed at Hermione and she grinned guiltily. "You copied down almost all of what was written anyway. The only thing you're leaving behind is the note that says my name on it."

"I know, I know, but what if I missed something?" She asked wistfully, and Neville didn't even respond, and instead led her down to the Floo near the Great Hall. They said their goodbyes and Neville promised he would let her know if anything else came for her.

By the time Hermione had set her bag down, she was no longer tired, and instead turned to her bookcase to locate any potions books that addressed the ingredients she'd learned about from the letter. She discarded her coat somewhere on the coffee table before sitting down at the kitchen table and opening her notebook to her first page of notes, comparing what she'd written to what was written in the potions book.

Hermione worked late into the night, and was unaware of when she fell asleep, and only knew that she woke up with a sheet of loose paper stuck to her cheek and a headache that was made worse by the light that poured in through the windows over the sink. She peeled the paper loose from her skin and put on a pot of coffee to brew while she showered, scrubbing the ink from her pen off her cheek. When she got out, she plaited her hair back and dressed in a cardigan and trousers, exhausted, but prepared for the day's work.

"Morning," she greeted Healer Katie Mallory as she shrugged on her green robes at her desk.

"Morning." Katie greeted in return, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "Now my eyes might be playing tricks on me, but are you smiling?"

"Am I?" Hermione questioned, yawning deeply as she sank into her chair to review her notes for the day. "Must've been a trick of the light."

"Oh no it wasn't." Katie gushed, turning in her chair to fully face Hermione. "You don't ever walk in all bright eyed. Something happened. Or some one happened?"

"Maybe I just got a good night's sleep." Hermione answered with a sigh, not in the mood to try to prove herself to a colleague. It was one of the things Hermione didn't enjoy about where she worked. People who were practically strangers wanted her to partake in gossip and share all about her personal life. She had become wary of folks like that since her name became known in every wizarding household of Great Britain, but at St. Mungo's she figured the other healers were just as mind numbingly bored as she was, and that their curiosity was to supplement their terribly dull days.

"No, you don't even look like you've slept." Katie noted, nodding her head at the dark puffiness under Hermione's eyes. "You should put some Sleekeazy's Vanishing Cream on those."

"I don't think I've bought any of that since puberty ran its course." Hermione chuckled, remembering the number of uses the cream had brought her as a teenager. She had moaned to Ginny about the spot on her forehead just before the Yule Ball, and Ginny had produced the cream with the reminder that they were witches and didn't need to deal with such trivial problems like hormones. "The last bottle I purchased is probably sitting in the back of my medicine cabinet, dried beyond belief."

"You'd be surprised." Katie mused, rifling through her purse, pulling a small, wrinkled tube out and holding it up to Hermione. "I've had this for nearly ten years. I don't use it as much anymore since adult men don't leave very many love bites." She giggled and tossed it to Hermione. Hermione caught it and unscrewed the lid, impressed that the very worn tube really wasn't dried up.

"This cannot be good for your skin." Hermione commented as she rubbed the product over a freckle on her wrist, watching it fade into her skin. There was no way she was putting such an old cream near her eyes.

"Why not?" Katie asked. "The ingredients are pretty standard."

"Yes, but not expiring for ten years? Everything has a shelf life, and for skincare, anything over a year seems spoilt." Hermione read the label and noted the use of aconite. "See, there's aconite in this. You would hardly want to get this near any orifice, it'll poison you."

"Trace amounts." Katie retorted. "Just enough to keep the cream lasting all day."

"Or enough to keep it fresh for years." Hermione muttered, but made a mental note to see if she could get the recipe. She was still working out how her supposed vanishing treatment of cursed marks would work, and perhaps a cream was the way to go. She tossed the tube back to Katie and turned in her chair, reading over the cases that would be under her care for the day.

By noon, Hermione was nodding off at her desk, wishing that she'd kept some of the Vitamix Potion she'd used during healer school, but knew that the burst of energy wasn't worth the numbness it left on her tongue. Maybe that was the next potion she'd work on creating.

She woke with a start from her pseudo-nap when there was a screech at the window. She jumped and turned, smiling warmly at the large eagle owl that looked as though it was frowning as it perched on the narrow ledge outside the glass.

"Afternoon, Spes." Hermione greeted the owl as she opened the window, and the bird swooped into the room, perching on the back of her chair. Spes lifted her foot to allow Hermione access to the parchment on her ankle, and when she thought Hermione wasn't looking, she spun her head quickly, looking around the room.

"Hoping there's a snack hidden somewhere?" Hermione smirked as Spes made what sounded suspiciously like a scoff. "Now, now, I didn't remember to bring a lunch today, but I'm sure I'll have something of interest somewhere." She dug through her purse and located a small box of owl treats, and before she could fully open the box, Spes snatched it from her hand and flew into the corner of the room, making a strange cackling sound as she tore apart the paper box to reach the treats inside. Hermione giggled softly and sat at her desk, unrolling the parchment Spes had brought her.

She had gotten to the point where she didn't mind so much that her stomach tightened at the thought of a letter from Draco. While before, she may have worried that she was so desperate for a friend that she was making something out of nothing, it had grown apparent to Hermione that in his own way, Draco seemed to care for her too. She couldn't say how much, because Draco was always careful not to say or do too much that showed any emotion, but there were smaller signs that he liked her. It was the way he touched her back when leading her somewhere. The way his pale skin flushed when she teased him. The way he seemed to watch her with the sharpest of eyes when he thought she wouldn't see.

Whatever the case, Hermione knew that her excitement at seeing her name lazily looped on the parchment in front of her wasn't a bad thing. It was a thing of new beginnings, and that made her happy, even if she still hadn't told Harry, or Ginny, or any other friends about this new development. Ginny suspected it, Hermione thought, but either out of respect for Hermione or dislike for Draco, Ginny kept her theories to herself. Harry was too dense to even see the change in Hermione, but that worked in Hermione's favor. She wasn't quite ready to share Draco with the others yet.

Granger,

While I would like to say my clout has produced the most successful of results, I must be honest and say that the contacts I've reached out to on your behalf have been almost wholly unsuccessful. I imagine that you're now wondering why I'm speaking so cryptically; if even one contact was successful, why not just begin with that?

Because I can nearly picture the look on your face when I drag this letter out, and what a look it is. It's nearly killing you, isn't it, Granger? But you couldn't possibly skip ahead, because what if I wrote something valuable in this drivel? What if you missed the word 'almost' while scanning my writing in your haste? What would you do then? Explode, perhaps? You know, I really must learn a spell to speak to birds, I'm sure Spes could report with vivid detail what it looked like when you spontaneously went up in flames because I was wasting your time by dropping just a seed of information that you seek in an otherwise nonsensical letter. It must be making you squirm, at the very least, yes? At least give me that much information in your reply.

~Draco Malfoy~

"That's it?" Hermione sputtered, flipping the parchment over several times. Where was the rest of his letter? He couldn't possibly torture her like this, could he? What did "almost wholly unsuccessful" mean? Why hadn't he sent whatever had been successful?

Hermione made a loud, disgruntled noise and Spes chirped at her as if to silence Hermione while she enjoyed her meal.

Grumbling, Hermione snatched a piece of parchment and a quill from a drawer and began drafting her own letter in response.

From the Desk of Hermione Granger

Healer

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

First Floor - Creature Induced Injuries

Malfoy,

When I punched you in third year, did you like it? Was it enjoyable? The way you cried and ran away made it seem like you didn't really like it, but maybe you did, and maybe that's why you're withholding information of interest to me when I've done nothing but support you in your own side project. Would you like me to punch you again? That can be arranged.

Let's say twelve o'clock on Saturday, at my flat. That gives you two days to either produce results, or receive a twice in a lifetime beating from yours truly.

The choice is yours.

Hermione

Hermione rolled the parchment with a bit too much enthusiasm and secured it to Spes's leg, despite Spes's protests.

"I don't care if you've eaten yourself into a food coma, you should've thought about that before when you devoured a box of treats that's meant to feed thirty owls." Hermione moved behind Spes and ushered her to the window. "Now get that letter to your owner as quickly as you can, Spes. No stops along the way to sleep."

The bird chattered at Hermione but dutifully swooped off the ledge and flew not toward the west toward Malfoy Manor in Bath like Hermione had expected, but instead curved around the building to head east. Draco must have been at work, Hermione mused, and with a pleased nod of her head, she returned to her desk, suddenly aware that if he was at work, that meant his secretary or someone else might read her letter. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and nearly prayed that wouldn't happen, but her lingering irritation from Draco's clear enjoyment of taking the mickey out of her made her slightly less worried about what others thought about what she'd said. At worst, they'd have to ask Draco what warranted such a response, and maybe he wouldn't be so tickled with himself if he had to explain his immature behavior. Yes, there really was no downside to this, was there?

With more energy than she had felt twenty minutes ago, Hermione finished her notes for the last clients of the morning and went off to purchase lunch, blissfully unaware she had invited Draco to her home to spend another weekend with him.


It was like Draco was reading her mind, Hermione decided, when she noticed that he hadn't backed away, and was instead hyperfocussed on the way the slant of her chin toward him put them in quite the perfect position to close the miniscule gap between their lips.