"She expected every moment that some of the gentlemen would enter the room. She wished, she feared that the master of the house might be amongst them; and whether she wished or feared it most, she could scarcely determine."

Hamish gave Hermione's hand a squeeze as they ascended the stairs to the rather large structure that Draco had referred to as a guest house. She returned him a tight smile and told herself to breathe.

As they approached, the door swung open to reveal an elegant figure, silhouetted against the light from within.

"Theo!" Hermione exclaimed, any pique she'd felt at him vanishing in her genuine happiness at seeing him again. He stepped forward and embraced her tightly. She felt the apology in the hug and when she pulled back the moisture in her eyes was reflected in his.

"It's so good to see you again," he smiled and Hermione put her palm against his cheek. He looked tan. Rested and happy.

Then she remembered herself and turned. "Theo, these are my dear friends Charlie Weasley and Hamish Gardiner. We're having a driving holiday in the area, which is how we ended up here."

The three men exchanged greetings as Theo ushered them into the house, offering to take their coats and bring them drinks.

"You see I've taken over as hostess, as usual," he winked.

"Well you're obviously a natural," Hamish laughed. Theo flashed his dimple in return and Hermione felt her nerves ease as she watched them. If nothing else, she could just stick close to these three all night. And Astoria.

At that moment Astoria herself appeared, embracing Hermione as if it had been weeks instead of hours since they'd last seen each other. Hermione performed the introductions there as well and it was clear that Hamish was instantly taken with her. Of course—absolute kindred spirits.

Now Hermione was really relaxing. She could do this. It would be fine. She caught Theo's eye as they entered the drawing room and the look on his face was like he was trying to give her a little warning or apology. She had a bare moment to wonder why before she heard Pansy Parkinson's drawl carry out over the soft hum of chatting voices that permeated the room. She cut her eyes to Theo and he leaned over.

"She invited herself," he breathed through thinned lips.

Shit. Well, it wasn't like she hadn't dealt with Parkinson before. And perhaps it would be another distraction from the truly unnerving part of this evening. Which had just materialised in a doorway on the other side of the room, looking starkly handsome in all black.

Their eyes homed in on each other and she felt his gaze slip over her, even as hers raked over him. Hamish gave a soft snort behind her, jogging her out of her stare. Then an older couple stepped in front of Draco and drew his attention away, unfreezing her brain and allowing her to look around the room.

Astoria was pulling Hamish around her and onto a sofa—they were already chatting animatedly. Daphne stood near the fireplace with an older man Hermione didn't know. Blaise and Pansy were at the drinks cart—seemed like she had another concoction she was pushing him to try. There were a few other guests Hermione didn't recognize, but by their age and look she imagined they were patrons of the integration project.

Theo's light hand on the small of her back guided her into the room. "Champagne?" he asked with a quirk of his mouth.

"Only if Pansy sees." Theo smiled and touched the back of her hand before moving off to get her drink and the ale Charlie had requested.

She turned to find Charlie still near. She forced a smile at him, "well?" He started to speak, but then his eyes moved past her and she knew, she knew, Draco had come up behind her. Maybe a subtle whiff of that indefinable but delicious thing she always associated with him? Or her bloody molecules reaching toward him again? She turned slowly as Charlie said hello for them and thanked him again for the invitation.

"You're very welcome." His deep voice and serious eyes. Fuck.

And then suddenly she was in a memory.

Lying on the sofa in Provence. A warm night in mid-August, windows open to the breeze. Kissing him languidly—like they had all the time in the world. She'd stopped and pulled back, framed his face with her hands, brushed her thumbs over his brows. "You know, your eyes are the most extraordinary colour." He'd reached up to capture her lips again, murmuring into her mouth with a smile on his. "Funny, people usually say that about my hair."

Charlie made a little motion and she started. "Yes, ah, it was very kind. So lovely to see everyone again," she muttered, biting her lip and glancing up into muted grey. His eyes widened slightly and she quickly pulled her lip from under her teeth, feeling heat bloom up her chest. What was she doing?

Stepping forward, Charlie asked him something about the creature facilities they'd toured yesterday and Draco turned to give him an explanation. Hermione was awkwardly silent. Theo walked up with the drinks. Taking in her expression at a glance, he pulled her away, saying something about how Daphne wanted to say hello.

The next bit of time passed in a rush. Hermione felt Pansy's dark, narrow-eyed gaze as she and Theo crossed to Daphne, who greeted her affectionately. She then chatted with one of the older couples. They had recognized her and wanted to know about her involvement in the integration project. Blaise rescued her from that particular minefield by pulling her into one of his bear hugs and drawing her away. He also loudly asked her out on a date as soon as Draco drew near enough to hear. Hermione didn't see Draco's reaction, but she registered it in Blaise's smirking face and Theo's immediate appearance.

Dinner was a blur. Hermione was seated between Astoria and Daphne and across from Hamish and Theo. Draco was far down at one end of the table and Pansy even further at the other. She wondered idly who'd done the arrangements.

Pushing food around on her plate and eating absolutely nothing, Hermione did manage to have a nice chat with Daph about Remy. The other witch smiled sweetly when she spoke of him and Hermione felt glad for her. She had the impression that Daphne rarely did things just for herself.

"I'm happy for both of you," she said, touching Daphne's arm.

Daph gave her quick smile, murmuring, "thanks," her eyes flicking very briefly toward Draco's end of the table. Hermione's gaze followed and she caught one of his rare smiles, directed at something one of the older guests had said. Her heart gave a lurch and she sighed very quietly—although Hamish's eyes immediately flicked her way.

"Hermione," he said, gesturing to Astoria, "did you know this delightful young woman is an accomplished musician?"

"I may have heard."

"Well I haven't!" Hamish turned to Astoria, who was laughing. "You must play after dinner."

"I will," she promised. "If Hermione helps me pick some songs."

Hermione nodded her assent.

The rest of the meal slipped by, and afterward the party gathered in the parlor again. Hermione sat and chatted intermittently with Theo as conversation ebbed and flowed around her, relieved that she seemed to have escaped the majority of the night unscathed thus far. Pansy had hardly acknowledged her. Probably remembers what she got last time, Hermione smirked into her drink.

She noticed Charlie and Draco tête-à-tête in the corner of the room and felt a faint smile lift her mouth—they really did like each other. Draco looked up at that moment and caught her expression, his lip lifting slightly as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and why it was amusing. Their eyes held for a second before they both flushed and looked away, Hermione feeling the familiar wash of regret.

She was wondering if she had any chance of convincing Hamish to leave early, when Daphne appeared and asked if she wanted to come outside for a cigarette. Hermione accepted gratefully and followed her through french doors to a small stone terrace.

"Thanks," she said as the doors shut behind them.

"I remember that you bummed one off Jonnie that night at the book reading." Daphne held out her cigarette case. "And it was getting a bit close in there."

Yes, it bloody was. Hermione accepted a light and inhaled, the ritual calming her. She leaned with Daphne over the low wall and smoked in silence for a while, looking up at the bright stars and savoring the chill air.

"I meant to ask," she said after a bit, "how is Jonnie? I think neither of us were at our best that night we met, but I enjoyed talking with her."

Daphne nodded. "She's well. Better. I was worried that her resolve wasn't going to stick, but she's managed to stay away from her arsehole of an ex."

"Good. He sounded awful."

"Oh, he is. The worst sort of cunt," Daphne's lip curled and Hermione shook her head. Daph stubbed out her cigarette, "but Jonnie asked after you the last time I saw her. Perhaps the three of us can meet for a drink or a coffee sometime."

Hermione nodded, "I'd like that."

Daphne's eyes flicked over Hermione's shoulder and she frowned slightly. And Hermione knew, again, that Draco was there. And that he'd probably heard them talking about Jonnie. Daphne's brows went up in inquiry as, for maybe the 17th time that night, Hermione felt heat flood her cheeks.

"Astoria is looking for both of you," his clipped tones sounded softly.

"I'll go," Daphne said as she performed a quick freshening charm. "I don't like her knowing I smoke." She grimaced at Hermione as she stepped swiftly through the doors.

Draco gave Hermione a brief, unreadable look and then turned to follow. "Draco, wait," Hermione's mouth said, to her very great surprise. He turned back slowly. She took a deep breath, "Daph and I—we were speaking about Jonnie."

"I heard."

"And I just want to say… I'm sorry. For what I said about you and her. Before. I know it's not true now and I feel terrible. Have felt terrible about it for some time."

A tension seemed to leave his face and his eyes searched hers. "Hermione, I... you don't have to…" His hands, which had been curled at his sides, unfolded abruptly.

"And Wickham!" she blurted, feeling if she didn't get it out now, she never would. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to apologize for that too."

His lips parted and she saw him breathe in, as if he was deciding what to say. His eyes were unguarded and Hermione felt her own breath catch in her throat.

"Granger," cut in a sneering voice from behind him. "You're being paged." Pansy stepped onto the terrace, her face a picture of disdain. "Astoria needs you."

Hermione swallowed and her eyes darted from Pansy back to Draco.

Pansy gave a slight huff and threaded her arm through his, pulling him aside as if to make way for Hermione to walk by. Not wanting to make the situation any more awkward, Hermione went, but not before she saw the arctic look Draco gave the other witch. And then she felt, more than saw, him shake off Pansy's arm before stalking back into the room.

His gesture seemed to make Pansy reckless. "Hermione," she trilled, her voice carrying out over the crowded room. "You mentioned Jack Wickham… Did I hear that he's engaged? What does that mean for the two of you?" Hermione stopped abruptly and felt the blood drain from her shocked face as Pansy flashed her a brittle smile of triumph. Over a buzzing in her ears she heard a discordant note clang on the piano, where she knew Astoria was sitting. "Guess that means they broke up," Pansy tittered to Blaise as she sank into a seat next to him.

Hermione ignored her and went immediately to Astoria, whose face was paper white. "I was supposed to help you choose something, I'm so sorry," she said softly as she approached.

Draco had reacted more quickly and was already there, his hand resting on the young girl's shoulder, and his gaze flying to Hermione's as she approached. "Let me accompany you," he was murmuring.

Astoria seemed to collect herself. She placed her hand over Draco's and peered up at both of them. "It's fine," she said evenly. "I'm fine. And I think I found the right piece," she smiled weakly at Hermione then turned her gaze to Draco. "Although I'd love some help. I'd like to do the guitar on this one." She got up from the piano bench, gesturing for him to sit down. He sat and looked at the music, his eyes going to Astoria's. She nodded as Hermione drifted back to a seat on a nearby couch.

Picking up her guitar, Astoria cleared her throat then introduced herself briefly, her usual bubbliness subdued. Hermione felt her fingers clench and she wished she and her wand were alone with that bitch Parkinson—or better yet Jack Wickham. She noted that Draco's shoulders were tense too and then she glanced round for Daphne and saw her in the back of the room, her mouth a tight line.

But then the music started. Hermione knew the famous muggle song instantly, although she wondered if many in this crowd had ever heard it before. It was a dirge—about the bitter, painful loss of love—and Hermione ached for Astoria and her choice of it. She also felt her own pain seep in as she listened to the haunting lyrics in Astoria's ethereal voice. And she didn't miss that Draco obviously knew the song well too - his beautiful playing of the mournful chords was not of someone simply reading music and following along. And in fact, she noticed he didn't even turn the pages of the open songbook in front of him. He knew it by heart.

When the last notes of the song finished, the room was perfectly silent for several beats—then Hamish's voice rang out, calling, "bravo!" which led a round of other shouts and enthusiastic applause. Hermione joined in and looked around to see most of the crowd dabbing at their faces and eyes. At least she wasn't alone. She ran her finger under her lower lashes just as Draco turned around on the piano bench and looked directly at her. She inhaled in sharp surprise. His usual mask wasn't in place and his expression was raw. Her heart contracted with pain—and just a tiny pinch of something else.

One of the older gentlemen got up to clap him on the back and ask about the song, breaking their eye contact. Draco got up and followed the man to the side of the room. Astoria struck up another tune then played several things after that—a wizarding piece, something brilliant of her own and a few more muggle songs—before the party started to break up. But Hermione's mind wasn't on the music for once. It was on Draco's face when he'd finished that song.

Was there room for hope?

She had no chance to speak to him before she left with Hamish and Charlie, their goodbyes buried in a swirl of people leaving at the same time and promises to get together with Theo and Daphne in London. But she felt his eyes on her and she let hers rest deliberately on him as she walked through the door, and into the now freezing night. She would sleep on it, yes, but she felt a conviction forming—a conviction that she should go to him. Talk to him.

That maybe all wasn't lost.

~oOo~

The door closed on the last guest and Draco leaned against it, closing his eyes.

The house was quiet. Astoria and Daphne had gone to bed and Blaise had persuaded Pansy to leave with him for a nightcap in London. She'd agreed to the suggestion with a curt laugh, her friends' marked coldness after her little outburst about Wickham seeming to drive home the fact that she wasn't, hadn't been, wanted.

Only Theo moved around in the quiet now, picking up a glass and decanter and pouring himself a measure.

"Would you like one?"

Draco nodded and pushed off the door, accepting the heavy glass and dropping into an armchair near the fire. Theo sat opposite him and tipped his head back against the worn leather with a sigh.

They sat and sipped in silence, the crack of flame and wood and the odd creak from a floorboard overhead the only sounds in the house. Draco felt almost hypnotised by the fire, his eyes fixed on its glow, his mind combing over the events of the night. Finally he inhaled and spoke softly.

"So what do you think?"

Theo paused for a long while before swallowing the last of his drink and rising from his chair.

"I think you should go and talk to her."

Draco looked up at him, holding his gaze for several beats before nodding and turning back to the fire. Theo moved toward the stairs, his hand brushing Draco's shoulder, gripping tightly as he passed.

~oOo~

Hermione sat in the parlour of the White Horse, sipping a cup of tea and crumbling up a scone while waiting for Hamish and Charlie. The three of them had checked out of the inn and were due to leave the village within the hour, but Hamish had requested a last minute trip to an art gallery to look at a painting he thought he might want for the house in Romania.

"Not that he'll have much of an opinion," he'd said to Hermione as he waited for Charlie to join him before setting off. "But I like to make sure he doesn't hate things before I spend a lot of money on them."

They'd of course asked her to go with them, but she'd waved them off, feeling unequal to making informed observations about art just now. In fact, she was a bit glad that the holiday was almost over—she needed some time to herself. Needed to sit in her room alone with her books and her things and think. ...Or maybe the time for thinking was over.

She made an impatient movement and turned to the window, craning her neck to look down the street. Where were they? They should have been back by now. Suddenly a soft sound came from the door to the lobby and she turned. "Oh good you're ba…" the words died on her lips, as instead of Hamish and Charlie, it was Draco standing there—looking tall and smart in a long wool coat. She felt her lips part but no sound came except for a short syllable of surprise.

"Hello," he said, lowering one shoulder to lean against the door frame.

"Hi." Her voice was a little too bright. She cringed internally and told herself to calm the fuck down. "Um, hello, are you …uh... here for lunch?"

"No," he took a step into the room. "I wanted to see you off." His face was carefully neutral, but his words set off a fluttering in Hermione's chest. She tilted her head and blinked, things she wanted to say catching in the net of nervousness at the back of her throat.

"You are leaving today?" His brows lifted slightly.

"Yes, ah. We're going within the hour. Hamish and Charlie are just at a gallery down the street." Ok, she could do small talk. Take refuge in it. But he was moving closer and jamming her senses. She could almost touch him now. Oh, how she wanted to.

He nodded. "And when will you be back in London?"

"Day after tomorrow… I," Oh fuck it—small talk was for cowards. "Draco, I - I'm glad you came today because I had wanted to talk to you." Her hand darted out from her side. "I was going to owl you when I got home."

"Oh?" He was very still.

"Yes, I started to say it last night. To apologize. I feel terrible about the things I thought, and said." She looked down. "Even the invest— "

"You don't have to—" They spoke at the same time.

He stopped and took a breath and she kept silent. "You don't have to apologize to me." His voice was low and close. She looked up and he was nearer.

"But I was wrong!" her breath burst out on a wave of frustration—with herself, with the situation. "I was so wrong and I don't want to leave it like this." She was keenly mindful that Hamish and Charlie might burst into the room at any minute. God, she wished they were alone.

"Leave it?" His face froze, and she opened her mouth to elaborate, but a flurry of activity from the doorway drew her attention. It was the goblin clerk and he was being circled by a frantic owl.

"Ms. Granger!" he croaked, waving his arms at the bird. "It appears you have an express."

The owl, hearing Hermione's name, immediately zoomed over to her and landed on her shoulder, emitting a barrage of shrill hoots.

Draco stepped forward with a soothing noise and removed a sloppily tied scroll from the bird's foot. He handed it to Hermione and the owl flew off immediately.

"It's from Ginny," she said, alarm growing in her chest. She began to unroll the paper when another small owl—this time grey and horned—came ripping into the room and began circling her.

"Looks like another," Draco said, catching the bird and removing the second scroll. "Same handwriting."

"Oh god," Hermione ripped open the first scroll and read rapidly. "It's Ron. It appears he's … missing? Oh god, and wanted for questioning by the police." She glanced into Draco's puzzled face. "She says … 'bring Charlie home because mum is hysterical. Even though she's probably overreacting, she's driving the rest of us insane.'" Hermione shook her head, confused, and shook open the other scroll. "This one is so poorly written I can barely read it," she squinted at the curled paper. "Oh! Oh no!" Her eyes flew to Draco's.

"What is it?" he leaned down to her eye level and his hand went to her shoulder.

"Wickham!" Hermione gasped. Draco shook his head, his brows drawing together. She hesitated for a bare second, then shook her head—he'll know soon enough anyway. "Ron's … disappeared with Jack Wickham. And they're wanted by the police." She skimmed down the letter, "investment fraud … fake property buying scheme…" Her hand clenched on the paper as she read. She looked up at him again, feeling the bleakness in her expression. "Harry and the Weasleys invested large sums and all the money is gone. They think Jack gambled it. There's nothing left. And there's," she shuddered, " … a human trafficking component." An expression of utter disgust crossed Draco's face and his hand fell away from her. Hermione felt a cold feeling wash through her veins as he took a step back and scrubbed over his eyes.

"I need to find Charlie and Hamish!" Hermione's cold was suddenly replaced by a manic burst of energy. "We need to go! Mr. Weasley needs Charlie's help in looking for Ron."

"Of course." Draco's tones were clipped. "But you should sit down." He poured her a glass of water then handed it to her while looking over his shoulder. "You there," he said to the goblin, who was lingering rather avidly in the doorway. "Send someone to find Mr. Weasley and Mr. Gardiner. They should be in the gallery on the corner." The goblin nodded and hurried out of the room.

Not a minute after he left—a minute in which Draco paced and Hermione stared unseeingly at the floor—Charlie and Hamish burst into the parlour, obviously having been given enough of the story to be very alarmed. Hermione handed them the letters and they read in tense silence. When he finished, Charlie flung the scrolls at Hamish and ran to the floo, calling for the Burrow, The goblin rushed to gather luggage and Hamish went for the car.

Hermione stood stock still, her brain running rapidly over the consequences of this debacle; the final death of the quidditch scheme, the loss of the Burrow, Ron in Azkaban, the family destroyed.

She felt a soft touch on her sleeve and started. Draco looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "I think you'll all be wanting me gone," he said softly, pointing his chin toward Charlie, who was trying to sooth an overwrought Molly through the floo flames.

NO I DON'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE! screamed Hermione's inner voice. Stay with me, please.

But she knew it was futile. Maybe their whole relationship was futile now. He wouldn't want to get within a hundred miles of the coming scandal. And god forbid Molly saw him through the flames.

Despair crept toward her and she watched helplessly as Draco nodded a quick goodbye to Charlie and then pivoted to her. At first his hand went out and she thought he might take hers, but then he blinked and stepped away, reaching for the door, his face set. He was gone before Hermione knew it—along with her hopes and what felt like any chance for happiness.