A/N: Please take note of the month and year from which these events are taking place so that it doesn't surprise you that it's as if a lot of things have happened. For example, this chapter takes place in January 2001. The previous chapter was in October 2000. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the love I have for Dramione.

Chapter Four

Being Friends with Draco Malfoy

January 8, 2001

Matilda Jenkins, 32, was attacked two nights ago at nine in the evening on her way home to Liverpool. Jenkins, a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, reportedly left the hospital at quarter to nine. Jenkins was supposed to Disapparate at an alley near the hospital when she was disarmed and brought to a deserted house in Ashington by Side-Along Apparition by the assailant, Travers, known to be one of the few Death Eaters still at large today.

"She's been tortured with numerous curses, one of which is the Cruciatus Curse, for at least 24 hours," Healer Miriam Strout said on an interview yesterday. Fortunately, Jenkins did not suffer any permanent damage from the incident but will continue to stay at the hospital for an indefinite time. It is believed that Jenkins was assaulted because she was a Muggleborn.

"We advise everyone to stay vigilant," Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt said. The Minister believes that the remaining Death Eaters are doing this just to scare the Wizarding Community. The Death Eaters deliberately wanted to let everyone know who exactly they were targeting when they purposely left Jenkins alive in front of the Ministry of Magic the next day.

When asked if You-Know-Who may be behind this, Auror Harry Potter said, "Voldemort is gone. Death Eaters or anyone for that matter cannot revive him." As of the moment, every Auror from the Ministry of Magic is pursuing the last of the Death Eaters. Meanwhile, Travers was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss this –

"Hermione? Are you listening?" Harry says.

I look up from the Daily Prophet I'm reading.

"I'm telling you, you've got to stop going home so late at night. It's dangerous," he tells me for the nth time since we met for lunch.

"I can perfectly defend myself, Harry." It comes out sounding irritable.

We're at a restaurant just a block away from the Ministry. It's become a habit for us to eat at Muggle places where almost no one recognizes us. I guess that's what Harry and I share – our common aversion to fame. Ron, on the other hand, enjoys it a little more than us.

Harry sighs and says, "I don't doubt that. But it wouldn't hurt to be more careful."

It's weird that Harry's saying this when I was the one who always told him not to go on finding trouble, which is ironically what his job is right now. For me, it isn't really about being able to take on Death Eaters or even about being brave. I'm just done running away. I don't want to stop living just because some people may be after me.

"Okay, okay," I finally say only for him to drop it.

Our order comes and I hide the paper quickly under the table. We don't talk about it for the rest of the meal.

-o-

"I'll go ahead, Hermione. You really should go home. It's getting late," Wendy Hurst says from the door. She's the sweetest person I know here. Wendy has auburn, wavy hair with pretty face covered with freckles. She's worked in the Division of Wizengamot Administration Services a year after I did and we've been friends ever since.

"I will. I'm just finishing this then I'm off. Good night, Wendy," I tell her with a smile.

"Okay. Good night," she waves goodbye before leaving.

I realize that I'm the only one left in the office. Although our work in the Division is mostly clerical, I've been appealing to the Minister that our responsibilities extend to actually making the laws. Since we deal with court cases, we have knowledge and a vast record of those that seem too ambiguous to be given clear and just verdicts. I'm not saying I don't trust the Wizengamot members to be fair. In fact, I've always respected them. No one simply just becomes a member of the Wizengamot. Everyone's at least 85 years old in there. These are people who have experienced four times my lifetime and two Wizarding Wars. But I also recognize human's susceptibility to impartiality and bias, which reinforces my advocacy to a more developed Wizarding Law.

"Still here, Granger?" I jump in my seat at Malfoy's voice.

"You startled me," I say with my hand over my chest. "What are you doing here?"

"We've been getting off work at the same time so I was thinking that we should leave together," he says nonchalantly. He's already invited himself in my room, standing in the middle of it, looking pristine in his black robes as ever.

I stare at him. These days I've become used to Malfoy's straight to the point statements. He doesn't ask me whether I want coffee. Instead, he hands it to me and just tells me to drink it. He also seems to think that the best way to be friends – he insists on saying that we are – with me is to be honest with me. Once while we were walking together towards the fireplaces in the Atrium, he said, "I hate the Weasel." I've learned to ignore all Ron-related things he says just as I disregard all Malfoy-related rants Ron sprouts. Besides having their cubicles close to each other's, they've been forced to work closely together ever since Malfoy joined the Ministry.

"I still have a lot to do," I sigh. "You go on ahead."

"I can wait," he says as he gracefully sits down on the chair in front of my desk, crossing his legs.

I eye him. He's already getting comfortable as he grabs the Witch Weekly magazine Wendy must have left on my table earlier and opens it.

"Suit yourself."

For an hour, I review the case for tomorrow while Malfoy just sits there doing practically nothing after he was done with Witch Weekly in 15 minutes. He doesn't bother me and I'm thankful for the peace. This is one more thing I discovered about Malfoy – he's learned how to stay quiet when he needs to. So far, it's the only trait I can say that I truly like about him, something he has in common with Harry. Ron never seemed to master it.

When I finally look up from all the papers strewn across my desk, Malfoy's already standing. He waits for me at the door while I organize the papers into neat stacks.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," I say as we walk on our way to the lifts.

"I'm not doing anything anyway," he says, sounding bored.

"Aren't the Aurors busy tracking down Death Eaters?"

"We haven't really had clear leads yet," he explains.

"Oh." I thought so. Even without a leader like Voldemort, Death Eaters aren't that stupid.

"Where do you live Granger?" Malfoy suddenly asks.

"Why do you ask?" Malfoy hasn't really been a threat but I'm not sure where his loyalty truly lies yet.

"I'm taking you home," he says it like it's the most obvious answer.

-o-

That night, I didn't tell Malfoy where I live. But he walked with me to the alley where I Disapparated home. The following night, he waited for me again. On the third night, when he came into my office, I was already preparing to leave. Two nights later, I finally let him take me home.