Word Count: 764

Daphne tries not to laugh when Draco groans. "Not you," he grumbles. "Why's it have to be you?"

Daphne tucks her curls behind her ears. "You should be honored by my company," she says, poking him lightly in the chest. "Now, come along."

After the war, they all ended up in one program or another. Daphne's loyalty during the battle had landed her in a mentoring program. All mentors find themselves assigned to a dark witch or wizard who show potential for rehabilitation. Thanks to Harry's testimony, Draco and his mother make that list.

"Fine. Come in, I guess." He steps aside, allowing her entry. "Would you like some tea?"

She raises her brows, amusement clear in her green eyes. "You actually know how to use a kettle?"

The blush that stains his cheeks her grin. Of course he doesn't. Draco Malfoy isn't the wicked villain everyone makes him out to be, but he is most definitely spoiled.

"Don't worry," she tells him, moving past him and into the kitchen.

"Sure. Make yourself at home," Draco quips dryly. "Whatever you want."

…

They sit at the table. Daphne's eyes flicker over the sticky notes that cover various surfaces of the house. Bright bits of paper cling to walls, bottles of wine, mirrors, all with little messily scrawled notes.

"I am not domestic," Draco says, noticing her staring.

"Where is your mother?"

"With her sister." Draco makes a face at that, like he doesn't know how to react to Andromeda Tonks being in his mother's life. "This was all too much on her, so her sister took her in."

"Andromeda is part of our program," Daphne says. "How lucky that your mother gets a familiar face."

"Our program." Draco sneers. "What's so good about it? They feast on human flesh."

Daphne sips her tea, eyes rolling. "Right. Yes. We are definitely cannibals, and you aren't the least bit dramatic."

Draco scowls. He plucks a biscuit from the tray, nibbling it in silence. He hadn't asked for the biscuits, but Daphne has the feeling he wouldn't have thought of it. This place doesn't feel like a home, and, given what she knows about Lucius Malfoy, she imagines it probably hasn't felt very warm and welcoming in Draco's life.

"Just tell them I'm better," he says.

"It's not that simple."

"Well, it should be."

Daphne sighs.

…

During her next visit, there is less dust. The kitchen table has a glossy shine to it. What catches her eye, however, is that the yellow sticky note on the table is gone.

"I tried to bake cookies," Draco tells her. "The oven caught fire."

She laughs, trying to imagine Draco frantically trying to extinguish the flames. "It's the thought that counts."

He rolls his eyes. "People only say that to make people feel better."

…

Slowly but surely, the sticky notes disappear. Malfoy Manor begins to look like a home again, and Draco doesn't look so haunted. Daphne watches the change, and she can't help but smile.

Has Draco ever looked this happy? She can't remember. All she knows is the Dark Lord left so many scars on his soul, but he is healing.

"I like your visits," he tells her. "They make me better."

"Good," she says.

A moment passes. Draco summons a bottle of wine. "To celebrate?"

"What are we celebrating?"

"The fact that I feel alive again."

…

She doesn't know when Malfoy Manor begins to feel like home, or when Draco becomes so significant in her life. On her final visit, she lets herself in.

"You'll be happy to know that you have passed your evaluation," she says, grinning. "I'm proud of you."

Draco moves closer. "You're still going to come around, aren't you?"

She hadn't even considered it. Though they were in the same House and year at Hogwarts, she and Draco, they were never friends. They've spent more time together in the past few weeks than they have in their school years.

"I've been thinking." He takes her hand, and she feels a flutter ripple through her stomach. "I just want something permanent. I want something real. And I think… I think I want you."

"You don't need to go rushing into things," she says because she remembers her training and long lectures on impulsive behavior.

"Who's rushing?" he asks. "We can take this as slow as we need to."

It isn't the most romantic start to a relationship, but Daphne doesn't mind. It comes from the heart, and she can see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I'm open to taking things slow."