A/N: I'm so sorry for not getting this up sooner. Work got in the way.

Hermione had willingly visited the Malfoy manor two times. The first time was right after the war, when Death Eaters were being arrested and judged by the Wizengamot. The second time was right after the younger Malfoy's sentence had been revealed. Three years at the prison out of which the man had already served two was more than enough time to be driven mad. She wondered how he was coping.

The only way to reach the hidden estate was through floo network, so after straightening her robes and casting a disillusionment charm on herself she walked through the narrow alleys to the Leaky Cauldron where she broke the spell on her. The pub was almost empty, usual for this time of the day. The busiest time was during lunch which a lot of wizards on the street took around one. Hermione greeted the aged landlord with a nod before passing silently to the cozy fireplace. "Malfoy manor," she said clearly and the green flames engulfed her.

When she stepped out into the cold hallway, there was a house elf waiting for her. Soot from Hermione's robes disappeared with a snap of the fingers and bowing formally, the elf said in a squeaky voice: "Please follow me, miss." The witch did as was requested of her.

The house elf led her to a beautiful room, where an ancient silver tea pot and matching cups were laid out on the table. Hermione took a seat in one of the iron chairs. They looked more uncomfortable than they actually were and the young witch wondered what spell had been used to make them tolerable. It forced her to sit straight, because if she didn't, she could feel a nasty back ache creeping in. Everything in the Malfoy manor was old, elegant and luxurious. However, it definitely lacked comfort.

The elf disappeared, leaving Hermione alone. Narcissa Malfoy had yet to make an entrance. She felt a bit funny inside. Part of her wanted to go and explore the house. After all, how often did outsiders like her get to enter the households of old wizarding families? Part of her wanted to flee, memories of the torture slowly poisoning her mind. And part of her felt just right.

Draco Malfoy could smell her the moment she had appeared in the fireplace. It pulled him to her and it was almost impossible to resist. He tried so hard, but his body didn't listen. His feet moved on their own, his arms would open the doors. He only caught a grip on his movements when he was behind the tea room's door. He knew that if he opened the door, there would be no turning back. He leaned his forehead against the dark wood, inhaling her scent. Intoxicating.

"Will you join us for tea?" There was an unmistakably Slytherin smirk on his mother's face. The aged witch had appeared silently, her elegant robes moving with grace.

"No," whispered the son. He pulled himself away from the door, looking in pain, and took a step away to let his mother pass. Narcissa glided past and the door opened for her – an unspoken charm.

"Hello, Miss Granger," she greeted her guest. Narcissa saw Hermione notice Draco and turned her head to hide another smirk. "Come on, Draco. Say hello to our guest."

"Granger," he grunted. He wanted to turn around and walk away, but was glued to the floor by her eyes. She looked straight at him, their eyes connecting despite Draco's attempts to avoid it, and she smiled. It was a small, polite one.

"Malfoy," she said pleasantly. "I'm glad to see you." She was genuinely happy for him, although curious about the circumstances of his release. "Are you joining us?" There were only two cups, but getting one more would have been easy.

Draco didn't even realize he had said "Yes." until Narcissa pushed him forward. He sat down on the chair next to Granger's, expecting that it would be easier for him. This way, he could avoid looking at her – not that his eyes were cooperating in that regard. He sneaked glances at her, as if his life depended on it – well, technically it did.

Hermione was surprised that Malfoy had joined them and even more so, when he sat down next to her.

"I hope you don't mind," apologized Narcissa as she poured the tea into cups. A third one as well as a plate with cookies had appeared as soon as Draco had taken a seat with them. House elves were obviously up to date with the happenings. "Tinky, our newest addition, likes to add lemon to the beverage."

"Thank you." Hermione took the cup from her. "I do enjoy some lemon in my tea from time to time." This was a habit she got from her muggle grandmother whose first remedy to any illness was tea. Whenever Hermione or anyone in her family was sick, she added lemon "for vitamin C, my dear. It boosts your immune system." As a child, she had hated the taste, but had grown fond of it with age. She would never admit it, but when she smelled amortentia in their potions classroom in their sixth year, she could smell a tint of lemon in it.

Narcissa and Hermione made small talk while Draco sat quietly and listened. He had added sugar in his tea, stirring it long after it had dissolved. Concentrating on stirring helped him ignore the beautiful witch. Hermione looked a lot better than on the photo where she left her job in the Ministry for the last time. She seemed happier, somehow. It made his heart ache, knowing he would do nothing to take this happiness away from her, even though it meant he would never be happy.

"I think it would be a good idea if you were to accompany Draco to the ball. It would guarantee that we'd make front page and that would certainly inspire more donations." Narcissa spoke matter-of-factly. She had noticed how Draco's mind was not with them. "But, of course, both of you would fall under heavy criticism."

Hermione weighed this idea in her mind and decided that the pros would overweigh the cons. "It's a good idea. I'll agree, as long as Malfoy does."

The women turned towards the young man.

"Well?" inquired the woman. "What do you say, Draco?"

This was the second time Draco agreed unintentionally. He had completely tuned out of the conversation, when the two had started talking about dress code and flowers and weather. He drunk his tea, poured himself some more (and sneakily added some firewhisky to it for good measure) and tried to behave as normally as he possible.

Two hours later, Hermione left. She had found Malfoy's behavior strange. It reminded her of their last year together at Hogwarts. Malfoy was behaving in the same way back then, twitchy and unresponsive in their lessons, and she wondered what could be bothering him now. He hadn't even protested at any of his mother's ideas. What had Azkaban done to him? As soon as she had got home, she sat down at her desk and written a very inquisitive letter to a certain Blaise Zabini.

"She would accept you as you are, you know." Narcissa could sense Draco's anger. But she was a remarkable witch, who was able to hold her own. Draco's fireballs could never hit her. They did, however, damage quite a large part of the tea room. She made a mental note to have it fixed as soon as possible.

Draco Malfoy was, quite possibly, going insane. He wanted to stay away from Hermione Granger, but the veela in him protested to that. The man was ready to inflict physical pain on himself to stop himself from going after her. It was unnecessary. Staying away was painful on its own. He relished in it. As long as he did, he was in control. He felt like he was hit by lighting. His mind echoed the thunder.

Blaise Zabini read Hermione's letter during his lunch break. An amused grin had appeared on his face, when the old owl had found its way into the hospital, and he'd laughed, realizing who had sent it. However, as much as he wanted to shorten his friend's suffering, it was not his secret to tell. He scribbled his answer on the other side of Hermione's letter and gave it to his eagle:

Granger,

you have to wait out the rain, before you can go home, the sky must clear

please annoy him to your heart's delight

B. Z.

p.s. you might consider forgiving Draco for the past

He was satisfied with it. He wondered how long it would be until Draco would break. At Hogwarts, Draco had been somewhat enthusiastic about studying about veela. They were the only magical creatures he'd been interested in – was that a sign of the blood in him? Blaise didn't really care much whether it was or wasn't. It changed nothing. Past was past and present was present.

He went back to work in a great mood. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy – what a pair. When Draco came to his senses (and Blaise was sure he would), they could change the wizarding world, shake it to the core.

"How can two smart people be so stupid?" he mused to himself, passing an ice cream shop. His black robes fluttered in the wind. It was a good day to be alive.

Hermione was surprised to receive a reply so fast. From what she knew, medi-wizards were always busy. When she realized it was a short message on the back of her own letter, she huffed in anger. Blaise hadn't answered any of her questions! He had just given her a message as strange as Malfoy's. What was he implying with the rain? And forgiving Malfoy? Annoying him? How should she go about that? She groaned, feeling that the situation was getting even more frustrating. It had been easy fighting for the blonde, when he kept his distance. Was Blaise suggesting that she impose her presence on him? If yes, then why?

The girl buried her face in the pillow. It didn't help her clear her head but it took some of the mess in her head. She was smart, clever and rational. And the rational part of her spoke loud and clear that Malfoy needed help readjusting after being locked away.

In a spur of the moment, she got dressed in a sunflower dress and left the comforts of her cozy home. She went to a bookstore in muggle London. She could get anything from Flourish and Blotts, but having contact with non-magical people gave her a thrill. Hermione loved both worlds, so she never looked for anything muggle in the wizarding world, just so that she would have an excuse to leave the magic behind for a short while.

The bookshop was smaller than most and the shelves were covered with dust. It made her cringe, but it was also part of the reason why she liked shopping there. She could give home to books that no one else wanted. It was easy to reach out for brand new, undamaged editions and it was easy to pick them over bent corners and yellowing pages. During her time at Hogwarts, her parents had sent her a lot of books to read.

There had been one, but she couldn't remember its name. She had read it often. One could even call it a favorite, even though it wasn't, not really. She had grown out of the story fast, but it still offered her great comfort whenever Malfoy insulted or bullied her. She still had the tattered paperback at home, but she thought of getting the man his own copy. It would probably annoy him to read a book written by a muggle. But it would be a step forward. And maybe, just maybe, it would help him too.