It took Granger roughly three minutes and thirty-two seconds into their Monday morning conversation at the café to bring up Draco being at the Harpies match over the weekend.

"Ginny said you were at her match Saturday."

Draco froze and narrowed his eyes. Oh she did, did she? And what else did She-Weasel tell you about me?

"I didn't realize my attendance was of any concern to Ginny Weasley," he spoke in his coldest tone, his fingers taking up their lazy route around his mug.

"It's Potter, and I thought those two teams weren't a matchup you needed to attend for work?"

Nothing fucking gets past you, does it Granger? Fuck.

Draco shrugged in what he hoped was peak nonchalance. "I have free tickets to any match I want through work. Just felt like watching a bit of quidditch, I guess. Not sure why Weasley has her knickers in a twist over it."

Granger rolled her eyes. "It's Potter, and don't be vulgar. She merely mentioned she saw you in your company box during the match, that's all."

But that wasn't all. Because if that was all, then why was Granger suddenly looking apprehensive? "You know," she began in an attempt at an offhand tone, but Draco could still sense her nervousness. "If you'd wanted, you could have come over and um, said hello."

Draco gaped at her. "Said hello?" he repeated dumbly. She nodded and swallowed an apparent lump in her throat.

"Yes, I thought, you know, you could have come to our box and um, said hello, you know, to um, me and everyone and maybe, um… hung out…" she was quietly rambling in a very flustered manner and Draco was dumbfounded at her words.

"Hung out. In your box. With you." She stared back at him, suddenly looking fearful at his low tone and sneering face. Good. She should be frightened of him. He wasn't a good person, not like her. Not like her real friends.

"Tell me Granger, what kind of welcome reception would have awaited me from your precious Potter and the Weasley clan? Handshakes and hugs? Then we'd all joke around and happily reminisce about all the fond memories we share? Is that what you envisioned?"

They'd reached a conversation topic they only ever danced around. But now, because of Granger, the outside world had intruded into their little peaceful morning sanctuary, bringing with it the looming threat of dangerous trips back down memory lane. Some nights, alone in his large bed, Draco had wondered how long they could carry on like this: this blissful state of ignorance to the rest of the wizarding world and its opinions of the two of them having coffee together. Of having personal conversations and sharing bits and pieces of their lives, but sharing nothing more than passing mentions of her friends or family, or of his family or their time at Hogwarts. Because if they had to talk about all that in a deeper, more specific way, then the bubble would burst. Draco would burst. He would completely unravel in front of her and all his years of healing would probably go right out the window. And he would have to say the words he'd been too much of a coward to say to Hermione Granger.

"Because if that's what you envisioned, Granger, allow me to completely disabuse you of that notion. If I'd made it over the threshold of that box without getting hexed several times over I'm sure the only thing I could expect from those wonderful people you call friends would have been icy glares and possibly even a few fists to the face. So no, Granger. I did not think to come over and just 'say hello.'"

She looked abashed and a little hurt. Good. I'm not a good person, Granger, can't you see that? Can't you of all people see that? I'm not good for anyone, least of all you.

She twisted her hands in her lap, but then took a deep breath and shattered Draco's world with just two words.

"I'm sorry."

No. Not this, not now. Not ever.

Draco pushed his chair away from the table as quickly as he could and stood up fast. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared down at her. His panicked gaze found the door and he calculated that it would take him less than a dozen steps to reach it. "Don't, Granger." He ground out in warning.

But in typical Hermione Granger fashion, she didn't listen. Didn't heed his warning. Her brown eyes were so full of warmth and earnest emotion that he had to look away. I am in control of this.

"Malfoy, look, I'm sorry if I—"

"I can't do this," he muttered and walked swiftly around her and out the door. He didn't ease his pace or turn around for the first block, but then he had to slow down. All of his limbs were shaking and his breathing was ragged. He heard someone running up behind him and squeezed his eyes shut. Of course she would follow him. Of course she'd come to check on him, on his feelings. Coward.

"Malfoy," she called softly and like a siren's song, it forced him to turn around and face her. She was standing just a few feet from him in the September sun, the light shining on her flushed pink cheeks and turning some of the strands of her brown hair to gold, while the gentle breeze picked up some of her curls and blew them about. And there was that bright glow of her eyes exuding sincere concern in a way that made his chest constrict painfully.

Her beauty overthrew him, and it hurt to look at her.

His emotions were a confusing swirl within him, so Draco did what he always did in these situations. He lashed out.

Stalking up to her, he gripped Hermione tightly by her upper arms, forcing her to look up into his eyes as he towered over her.

"You have nothing to apologize to me for, do you understand? Nothing." He hissed, gray eyes boring into hers, trying to make her realize his true meaning. Do you get it yet Granger? Haven't I made it abundantly clear to you what kind of man I am?

She merely stared back up at him while Draco's eyes pleaded with her to comprehend the full weight of his statement. I can't even say the words, Granger, even though I know I should. I'm not like you. I'm a fucking coward.

She didn't look away. Draco's gaze moved down as her lips parted so she could exhale a shaky breath. "Okay," she whispered and Draco felt her tremble slightly.

He came to his senses then and dropped her arms as if he'd been scalded. He took a few steps back and hung his head in shame at the way he'd touched her without her consent. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I didn't mean to… I … I'll see you tomorrow Granger," and he turned and left without a backward glance.

When Draco reached his foyer that night after work, a letter with a familiar wax insignia awaited him. With slightly shaking hands, he tore at the Hogwarts seal to read the response from Minerva McGonagall. He let out the breath he'd been holding as he read through it once and took it up to his bedroom. Summoning a bottle of firewhisky, Draco poured a generous measure as he sank into an armchair by his fireplace. Downing his glass in one go, Draco re-read the letter several times. Though it contained good news, he put the letter and glass down so he could bury his head in his hands and sob.

The next morning, things reverted back to normal between himself and Granger. Although he did notice that the size of the bags under her eyes could only be rivaled by his own.

I'm trying. I know it's not enough. I am in control of this.

October 2007

Draco tightened his cloak around him as he apparated into Hogsmeade. He'd selected the closest apparition point to the gates of Hogwarts, hoping to avoid as much of the village as possible. From this point he could reach the gates without having to walk past the Three Broomsticks, an establishment in which he was most unwelcome. At least, that's what Madam Rosemerta's Howler had shrieked at him years ago after he'd written her an apology letter. Draco was sure the landlady's memory was long, and he didn't feel like pressing his luck in such a public manner.

He was grateful that the streets were mostly empty as it was a bit early on Saturday and apparently not a Hogsmeade weekend for the students. As Draco approached the gates to the school entrance, he patted both breast pockets of his cloak to check he still had the two necessary items for today. One pocket held a full vial of Calming Draught. Draco had already downed one this morning. He would most likely need at least half of this vial after his walk to the Headmistress's office. He hadn't been back to the school since the final battle more than nine years ago. I am in control of this.

His other pocket held the thick bundle of parchment he would present to McGonagall. If he maintained his composure, he just might be able to convince her of this idea.

An elderly gentleman dressed in a thick wool sweater and tweed trousers waited just inside the gates. A West Highland terrier trotted around at his heels, little tail wagging back and forth as it watched Draco approach. Filch must have finally died, leaving a vacancy at the school for yet another cantankerous geezer to stalk the grounds and glare at students.

"Draco Malfoy?" inquired the man in a thick Scottish accent.

"Yes, I have an appointment with the Headmistress."

"Aye, I'm aware. Come on then, and keep up." Draco rolled his eyes at the man's back once the gates had swung forward to grant him entrance. They sure did like to employ surly old men as Hogwarts caretakers.

The terrier wandered back towards Draco and sniffed his shoes a bit before rejoining his master's side. Draco caught up with the man and kept his gaze focused on the front door of the castle. He didn't look left or right until he reached the entrance hall, afraid of what his memory might conjure up if he dared to peek. Oh yes, I remember, just there is where the Creevey boy was killed, what fond memories! And look, over there is the spot where several of Greyback's charming associates had mauled another student. Good old Hogwarts!

Draco inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to drown in the horrid days gone past.

The two men and the dog trod a familiar path towards the Head's office in silence. Draco again kept his gaze focused only on what was directly in front of him, neither knowing nor caring if they passed any students, staff, or ghosts. Obviously the castle had been expertly restored since he'd last been on the grounds, and Draco didn't know what would be more painful: seeing the destruction still or seeing how everyone had cleaned up and moved on with life.

Finally reaching the stone gargoyle, the caretaker grunted "Ginger Newt" and motioned for Draco to go inside. "Thank you Mister…?"

"McCallister. Come on then Nessie," he called to the terrier who gave Draco one last sniff then trotted after his master.

Draco stepped on the moving spiral staircase and began counting his breaths in his head. Fuck it. He took the Calming Draught out and tipped back half of it before the staircase had stopped. His hand was quite steady as he knocked on the office door. "Come in," called a familiar voice.

Swallowing once, Draco pushed open the door and entered. It looked exactly the same as Draco remembered, the only differences being the body occupying the chair behind the large, handsome desk of the circular room and the absence of a phoenix.

McGonagall stood briskly and approached him with her hand extended. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for your punctuality. Could I offer you some tea?"

This was positively surreal. He was standing here, shaking hands with his old Transfiguration professor who had just offered him tea. She seemed all business: no grimace, no threat to take points from his house or give him detention. Had it really been that long since he was a student?

"Yes, tea would be great, thank you," he responded softly. With a firm wave of her wand, McGonagall conjured a pot, saucer and several tea accoutrements onto the low table beside the pair of chairs in front of her desk.

"Please, sit." She gestured to the chairs as she took her place behind the desk once more. Draco obeyed, and more to avoid looking at her than anything, busied himself with preparing a rather sugary cup of tea. Tea ready, he could put off the moment no longer, he looked up.

Just behind and above the desk were two portraits containing the images of men that still inspired conflicting feelings in Draco. Professor Dumbledore's portrait was currently empty and Severus Snape's portrait appeared to be asleep. Draco breathed a soft sigh of relief and met McGonagall's eyes instead. She was regarding him beadily over her glasses and now Draco felt like he was a pupil again, which strangely put him at ease.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Mr. Malfoy, I must confess it was somewhat of a shock to receive your letter. I must also confess that I'm not entirely sure how I might be of assistance."

Draco sipped his tea and gently placed the cup back on its saucer on the table, afraid it would rattle in his hands. He took a deep breath. You said you were trying. Prove it.

"Yes, and thank you for meeting with me Headmistress. As I wrote in my letter, I'm interested in donating some gold in order to fund a new initiative at the school." Stick with facts. Stick with numbers.

McGonagall's mouth was set in that firm line he remembered as her default expression. "Indeed. But as we both know, Mr. Malfoy, your family already donates quite a generous sum to the school annually. I'm not sure I understand your request."

Draco pulled the stack of parchment out of his cloak pocket. "This new venture will in no way affect my current donation to the school. As I wrote, I'd like this fund to serve a new and very specific purpose."

He stood then and approached her desk. He unfurled the stack of parchment and laid it gently down in front of her. "This is what I had in mind. And I think once you read through, you'll suspect that I did not come up with this all on my own, and you'd be correct. This wasn't my idea, but the funding will be coming from my vaults."

Draco had done what very few people on the planet had ever done. He got Minerva McGonagall's jaw to drop in shock. He suspected her shock was caused by the name of the fund, written in heavy, bold ink on the first page:

The Hermione J. Granger Fund for Students of Non-Magical Parents

Draco had no idea what the "J" stood for, but Granger's work bag was initialed with "HJG." He made a mental note to ask her about her middle name.

McGonagall blinked rapidly, stared up at Draco as if confirming he was actually sitting in front of her and this wasn't some bizarre dream, then returned her eyes to the parchment. Draco watched nervously and tried not to fidget in his seat while her eyes zipped back and forth across the parchment. He had no idea how much time passed, but he knew interrupting McGonagall while she was information-gathering would be a mistake. He sat quietly and tried to control his breathing as she scanned line after line, her eyes giving nothing away after her initial brush with the shocking title.

She didn't say a word or react at all until she finished reading every single line in front of her. When she'd finally reached the end, she leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her, fixing Malfoy with her beady gaze. Draco didn't dare look away.

"Mr. Malfoy. I must again confess that I am at a loss here. Why am I being presented with an admittedly thorough, original, and sorely needed proposal by you and not by Miss Granger herself?"

Draco cleared his throat and shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well, like I said before, Headmistress. This was not my idea. It was Granger's."

"Precisely, Mr. Malfoy, and having had the pleasure of teaching Miss Granger for a number of years I recognize all the hallmarks of her research and skills for planning. I'm still confused as to why I'm speaking with you, and not with her."

Draco shifted again, feeling like he was on trial. I didn't copy her bloody homework, McGonagall.

Here goes nothing.

"Because she doesn't know about it," he muttered quickly.

For the second time during this appointment (this has to be a record), Draco succeeded in shocking Minerva McGonagall into dropping her jaw.

"She doesn't know." The Headmistress repeated faintly. Draco shook his head and thought he should probably try and salvage the situation. This conversation was most definitely not going according to plan.

"It's a bit of a long story, but Granger and I have sort of… reconnected, I guess you could say and umm, she was telling me the other day about this idea she had… and it really all started because she got all worked up over some drivel in the Prophet and you know, Headmistress, how Granger gets when she's passionate about a cause, and well it all just kind of spiraled from there really… and so she had this brilliant idea, per usual, and well if Hermione Granger can't get this done, then what's the point of anything? She has the ideas, I have the gold, but you know her, Headmistress, the second I offer to fund this whole thing she's going to refuse and be bloody stubborn and noble about it… so I may have stolen it out of her notebook while she wasn't looking… and well the timing was perfect, really, I have a pretty large sum of gold that I need to move before the end of the year because it was already supposed to have been donated, but then—"

McGonagall held up a hand and Draco stopped his rambling, clamping his jaw shut in embarrassment at the disjointed and unprofessional rant he'd just issued. So much for being the eloquent and detached wealthy heir…

"You thought you could simply establish a very generous and comprehensive cultural and educational initiative for Muggleborn students, all in her name, without telling her first?"

Draco blinked twice, taken aback at her concise and accurate summary. "Erm, yes, that's uhh… pretty much exactly it."

McGonagall exhaled a long breath through her nostrils and began looking through the parchment again. When she looked back up at Draco, her face was stern and impassive.

"Forgive me if my question seems accusatory, but I must ask. What do you stand to gain from such a grand gesture? You and Miss Granger weren't exactly close during your time at Hogwarts."

It was a fair question, thought Draco. And though her tone of voice had been neutral, Draco knew that there were years of experience of her telling him off for being an absolute wanker for most of his academic career… and then the whole him letting Death Eaters into the school and attempting to assassinate Dumbledore thing. Her suspicions of his motives being less than noble were certainly not unfounded from her perspective.

Trust is earned over time, he heard Healer Browning's voice in his mind.

Draco would have to choose his words very carefully.

"Granger was discussing the merits of the type of program you see on the parchment in front of you, Headmistress. I found her argument surrounding the dearth of information and education Muggle families receive regarding their magical children most persuasive. Obviously, given her own personal life experience, her unique perspective made a compelling case for how this type of cultural initiative would ultimately benefit all pupils of Hogwarts. It was only when I raised the question of funding did she falter."

Now Draco was in his element. He strode up confidently to the parchment lying between himself and McGonagall on her desk. "If you'll skip to the back half of Granger's plan, you will see that I have calculated the amount needed for each tenet of the fund." He gestured a finger to each component: staff time, Ministry liaisons, supplies, the extra trips for the Hogwarts Express, even down to the cost of operating the school kitchens during the orientation period.

Draco resumed his seat and took a fortifying sip of his tea. "By my advisors' calculations, the gold I'm supplying for this fund in its current iteration would sustain the program for a decade."

McGonagall nodded and began folding the parchment together. Once it was re-folded and sealed she leaned forward to survey Draco over her spectacles again. "Mr. Malfoy, you just gave me a logical and practical reason for your involvement. Coupled with Miss Granger's ideas, I see no reason why this fund should not move forward."

Draco's heart soared, and he tried to temper that pesky feeling of hope. Why did he feel like the other bludger was about to drop?

"However," Ah, fuck, here it comes.

"You have still not answered my question. What are you personally seeking from this new endeavor?"

There it was again, that suspicion that lurked behind every one of his life's actions because of his miserable existence as a teenager. Don't cock it up again. I am in control of this. You have to start somewhere.

He took a steadying breath. "Headmistress, I know I am not a man you consider to be worthy of your trust." Draco thought he might have seen one of her eyebrows briefly raise at his forthrightness, but it was always so hard to tell with McGonagall.

"I know that I was far from a model student. I was often an egotistical little terror and on more than one occasion I did not show you the respect you deserved. And if I played any part in causing you distress over the years, well then I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I am sorry. Since I cannot go back in time to correct all my youthful misdeeds, the best I can offer is a way to move our world forward."

He stopped talking just then, needing to breathe as the air thinned around him. Draco focused on counting his breaths as he waited anxiously for McGonagall's response. He kept counting as he held her gaze, trying to impart the sincerity of his statement with his eyes. Do you know what this is taking out of me, McGonagall? I'm fucking bleeding out here.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's words were so soft, he struggled to hear them. Her jaw was clenched tightly, as if trying to hold an emotion at bay. She cleared her throat abruptly and steered the conversation back to the fund.

"I can see no reason why I should not present this to the school governors. I must warn you now, this may take quite a bit of back and forth. Is owl the most reliable way to negotiate with you?"

Draco blinked in surprise at her sudden flip to business details. "Erm, yes, by owl is acceptable."

She nodded curtly. "Excellent. If the governors approve moving forward with the fund, and I must say, you and Miss Granger did most of the tedious work with the lesson planning and financial breakdown already, then we will have a commentary period. During this time each governor will have a chance to submit amendments or edits to the program. Once we have collected all comments, I will provide you with a copy of the agreed upon wording. If you agree to any changes made, then we will present the fund to the Ministry for their approval."

Draco exhaled in relief. This could work. This could bloody work!

"Headmistress, if I may, I have two non-negotiable issues before any changes are made. First, the name of the fund. It was Granger's idea and she put in all the hard work, so her name stays. Second, there will be no information trail leading back to my name. I would like 'anonymous benefactor' on every single financial document. This includes your presentation to the school governors. I would like for this to remain between myself, you, and my financial advisors."

McGonagall fixed him with a bemused look. "Mr. Malfoy, you do understand that an initiative like this combined with the celebrity that accompanies Miss Granger's name… well, there's going to be quite a bit of press attached to the fund, should it become finalized."

"I know," he swallowed nervously. "Which is why I think the school should host a yearly fundraising gala. It will shift the attention from the 'anonymous benefactor' angle and as I said before, we will need more funding after 10 years. I think you'll find more than enough moneyed wizarding families eager to throw gold at a fund like this for the good publicity."

McGonagall nodded again. "I quite agree, an excellent suggestion. I will add that detail for the governors." She made a note on a separate piece of parchment. Draco could feel the Calming Draught begin to wear off, and was startled at the time when he looked at his watch, noting it was nearing lunch.

"There is just one more matter, Mr. Malfoy." Fucking Salazar Slytherin, what now?

"When do you intend to inform Miss Granger of her eponymous fund? I cannot imagine she would be overly thrilled to read of it in the Prophet. Nor do I think she would appreciate being left in the dark while this is approved without her input."

Fuck, McGonagall was right. Granger would be rightly hacked off at him if she knew he'd gone behind her back and handed her brainchild off to the Ministry after a bunch of old school governors had their opportunity for a say. But he couldn't have her trying to stop him either.

"Right before Ministry sign-off." Draco said firmly. "She can approve the final version or scrap it all then if she wants. But I don't want to get her hopes up if it doesn't even make it to that stage."

McGonagall pursed her lips, and Draco could tell she didn't approve of this under-handed way of dealing with Granger. Eventually she nodded her assent, and stood with her hand outstretched.

"Well Mr. Malfoy, this was a rather pleasant surprise of a visit. You should have an owl from me before the month is over."

Draco stood quickly and shook her hand. Then his eyes flicked upward and he tried not to gasp. Dumbledore's portrait was now quite awake and smiling benignly down at him. But what caused Draco's breath to catch was the steady, fixed glare of two familiar, intense beetle-black eyes, boring into his own. Draco almost put up his occlumency shields in his mind before remembering that a portrait of Severus Snape could not penetrate his mind, no matter how accurate the likeness. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry.

McGonagall gave him an understanding sort of grimace as Draco tore his gaze away from the two previous headmasters. "Lunch is about ready to be served in the Great Hall. Would you care to join me at the staff table?"

Draco shook his head, knowing his Calming Draught had run its course. There was no way he'd be able to sit through a meal with the rest of his old professors and the eyes of hundreds of students on him.

"Thank you Headmistress, but I think I should be heading home. I can see myself out."

Draco made it to just outside the office door before his shaking hands quickly closed around the vial of Calming Draught. He stopped and tipped the rest of the potion back. On the other side of the door, he heard the amused voice of Dumbledore remark, "I did tell you once before, didn't I Severus? I truly believe we sort students far too young."

Draco couldn't make sense of the comment but could have sworn he heard a snarl in response and the familiar sound of Snape's swishing black robes as Draco pictured him scowling and sweeping out of frame.

"Well, did I deliver on my word or not? Didn't I tell you this would be spectacular? She does this after every single match."

Draco nodded, impressed, as he watched the young player gently complete her descent down to land on the quidditch pitch. With the exception of the young woman shouldering her broom down below, the rest of the pitch was deserted. Draco had finally made good on his word to hang around with Wesley Macnair after a match. Considering that Draco's Wimbourne Wasps had just wiped the floor with Macnair's Tornadoes, Draco figured the least he could do was linger behind to see what Macnair was so keen to show off.

As the rest of the company box and the crowd gathered in the stadium emptied, Macnair had lifted his omnioculars to his face again and directed Draco to do the same. "Trust me, you'll want to see this."

A young woman in a Tornadoes jersey had remained on the pitch with her broom and a Beater's bat in hand. She kicked off suddenly, and then pointed her wand behind her to release two bludgers from their crate. The two balls shot at her at a ferocious speed, but she batted them away quickly as she flew higher into the air. What followed for the next half hour was a relentless assault by the bludgers and the flurry of the player's bat as she beat back attempt after attempt of the balls to unseat her.

Draco watched as her brow was furrowed in concentration, sweat beginning to flow down the sides of her face as she ferociously swung her bat with an incredible strength and precision. He had never seen this impressive a combination of grace, control, and brute strength. Her shoulders were broad and Draco could see the outline of her bulging biceps even through her jersey. It was clear that she was in spectacular shape and at the distance the bludgers traveled after she whacked them, she wielded her strength expertly.

He heard a soft chuckle next to him as Macnair broke through his thoughts as he watched the young player take her leave of the pitch.

"All right, explain. Why is that girl not in your starting lineup?"

Macnair frowned and sighed. "You know the Tornadoes, it's been a boy's club for their entire existence. That young lass there, Maureen Tyler, has been a reserve Beater for the last two seasons, and you don't even know how many times I've begged the coaches and captain to promote her to a starter."

Draco nodded in understanding. The Tornadoes liked to think of themselves as the all-male answer to the Holyhead Harpies which was obviously moronic, in Draco's opinion. It was nothing of an official ban against female players, of course, but when the only female player in several decades couldn't seem to break out of the reserve pool, well it seemed the whispers about the coaches and team atmosphere were proven correct.

"So why have you revealed this great secret weapon to me? The Wasps have no room for more Beaters on the squad, I'd be laughed out of the room for suggesting it."

Macnair nodded and pressed on "True, lad, I don't think she's a fit with you either. But can you think of another team that might benefit from her superior skills?"

Draco shook his head, not in ignorance but in disagreement. Now he understood where Macnair was heading. "No way, I'd never be able to convince McLaggen. He's only the scout for the Harpies so he can play 'hide-the-wand' with the more attractive scouting prospects. Besides, you know this type of collusion is frowned upon by Bellamy, right?"

Macnair waved an impatient hand. "Come off it, you can't tell me that girl isn't a bloody beating prodigy! She would be starting on any other squad!"

Draco sized up his colleague and narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you? Why are you so concerned over this girl?"

Macnair sighed and ran a hand through his dark stubble. "Look, I recruited her right out of Hogwarts. I'm serious when I tell you I've never seen a talent for beating like hers. And well… she's Muggleborn and I don't think she had a lot of career options after school, to be honest with you. She told me she just wants to bring in enough money to support her father."

Draco's frown deepened and he ran a hand impatiently through his own white-blond hair. Why was it his problem that Macnair had developed a soft spot for some Muggleborn girl?

Hear that Malfoy? That's the sound of the cauldron calling the kettle black…

Fucking hell.

"Look, if she means that much to you, then you talk to McLaggen."

"I can't, I almost came to blows with him last month because he was sexually harassing Bellamy's assistant. You went to school with him, right? See if you can't turn on that old Malfoy charm, you know he's a sucker for society climbing."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh, knowing Macnair had a point. That stupid ponce was so fucking transparent with his social aspirations and would do anything to be associated with either the wealthy, famous, or powerful.

"Fine I can try. Can you arrange a meeting with Tyler?"

Macnair smirked. "No time like the present, son. She'll be back out of the locker room in about three minutes."

And so Draco found himself leaning against the wall of the darkened stadium tunnel, waiting for Maureen Tyler to emerge. When she finally exited, dressed in a Muggle tracksuit, Draco gave what he hoped was a friendly nod. "Miss Tyler?"

Her face turned into a frown and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Can I help you mate?"

Draco approached her confidently and held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy, I don't know if you're familiar—?"

"Yeah I know all about you."

Draco cocked his head in confusion and retracted his outstretched hand. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"You're the scout for the Wasps. The whole league knows who you are." She continued bluntly and Draco tried not to exhale in relief. Given that she was just 19 or 20, their paths at Hogwarts would never have crossed. Which meant he could play the part of the discerning scout.

"Right then, so why don't I know you? Is it normal for a reserve player to linger after a season-ending match just to get some more practice swings in?"

Maureen shrugged and tugged on one of the long, black braids from her ponytail. "Not sure why that's any of your business."

Fine, if you want to be a brat about this.

"I don't think your talents are being put to good use on the Tornadoes. I'm here to see if you're open to an alternative."

Maureen Tyler shrugged again and switched to fidgeting with the broom handle slung over her shoulder. Nervous and trying not to show it.

"Your Wasps don't need me. What can you actually offer me? I make good money with the Tornadoes and I'm not interested in messing about."

Draco nodded in agreement. "I respect that. I'm merely asking if an opportunity from another team happened to come your way, would you be open to it? I'm talking about a starting position as a Beater, not wasting away on the bench and settling for secret practice sessions after the real match."

She shrugged non-committedly again but Draco saw the slight gleam of hope in her eyes. "I'd think on it."

That was good enough for Draco. He conjured his business card from thin air and handed it to her, only slightly surprised when she actually accepted it. "Let me know if I can be of any future service. Good evening, Miss Tyler."

Irksome good deed done for the evening, Draco apparated home and wrote Macnair a quick letter. He really needed to stop getting involved in things that were none of his business. At least he had tomorrow morning with Granger to look forward to.

She was supposed to spend time with her parents this weekend. What did Granger get up to with her Muggle parents? Draco always politely inquired about her weekend activities, but noticed her answers were much shorter when it came to her own blood relations. She could wax rhapsodic about her meals and celebrations with the bloody Weasley clan, but when it came to the Grangers, Draco noticed a tightness around her eyes and in the way she spoke.

Maybe he wasn't the only one with a difficult parental situation. Maybe it was just one more, sad thing they had in common.

A/N: I've loved hearing from you lovely readers along the way, so thank you so much for your comments/follows/faves, feedback is always appreciated. I'm always down to discuss Dramione (or HP in general) so drop a comment or a PM if you're so inclined! Stay safe in the world- Jude