Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise. I'm just a big Dramione fan.

Chapter Five

The Night I Let Draco Malfoy Take Me Home

January 12, 2001

The minute hand of the clock above the door points to twelve. It's 8 PM. I start to clear my desk at the office. I'm still holding a folder when Malfoy saunters in.

"Ready?" he says then frowning at the copy of Quibbler on my table.

"Yeah." I place the folder inside the top drawer before getting my bag.

Every night, Malfoy has been walking me all the way to the alley where I usually Disapparate home. On the second night, I told him that he really doesn't have to. "We get off work at the same time anyway," he said to me then. I let it go because I didn't want to argue.

"Really Malfoy, why do you keep on waiting for me?" I ask him again when we get out of the Ministry. "And don't give me the same lame excuse."

He seems to think about it then says, "Maybe I like the company."

"Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

"I do."

Oh. I didn't know what answer I was expecting. I've never really given much thought about Malfoy's personal life. So it just occurs to me that his world doesn't just revolve around work at the Ministry or trying to be friends with me.

"Do I know her?"

"Her name's Astoria Greengrass."

Greengrass… She was in our year. I don't really remember her face but I'm pretty sure she's one of Parkinson's gang.

"She's Daphne's younger sister," he says when I seem to be lost in thought.

"Oh."

It's so predictable – for Malfoy to be dating someone from his own circle. With very few pureblood families left, it's not a surprise that most of them are marrying each other. I remember seeing Malfoy's name on the Black family tree for the first time and wondering why he's so proud of something I just couldn't see… Malfoy stops in his tracks.

"Well, go on then," he says. Then I realize that we're already at the Apparition point.

I look up at Malfoy but his eyes are roaming the place. He always does this when we're out.

"Actually, I'm famished. Do you want to have dinner? I mean, unless–"

"Sure," he says before I finish my sentence.

"O-kay. I know a good place. I can take you Side-Along." The last part comes out as a question. I hesitantly offer him my arm. Although we've seen a lot of each other at the Ministry – one coincidental time over coffee, sometimes when he comes to my room unannounced just to escape Ron and most of the time when we just happen to arrive or leave work at the same time – I still don't know what he thinks of voluntarily touching a Muggleborn. In all those times, we've never really had an excuse for physical contact. Sure we brush arms when the lifts are too packed but never like this when either of us has the choice to prevent it. Yet Malfoy holds my arm without second thought.

I Apparate us somewhere near Alfredo's, an Italian restaurant that I came across two weeks ago while I was walking in the neighborhood. Malfoy lets go of me after we've had our bearings. We then walk a small distance to the place.

"I forgot to tell you, it's a Muggle restaurant," I tell Malfoy when we enter. There are rows of red booths on one side of the wall while chairs and tables litter the floor. I lead us to the farthest booth where no one can overhear us.

"Yeah?"

I'm about to react but just then, a waitress comes to get our orders. She has bright red hair and looks young like in her early 20s.

"What would you want?" she asks with her hand hovering on a notepad she's holding, looking bored. The servers here tend to look like that. But the food's great so I don't mind them.

"I'd like a Carbonara please. And iced tea," I tell the waitress. She writes my order down before turning to Malfoy.

"I'll have what she's having," he says monotonously.

I wait for the waitress to get out of earshot before I speak again.

"Is that it? Are you really telling me that you are not repulsed by Muggles now?" I ask disbelievingly.

"I thought you'd figured that out by now Granger," he says, deadpan serious.

I can practically see my face turn red from embarrassment. How am I supposed to know what he's thinking? For all I know, I'm the only person he talks to outside of work that isn't a Pureblood.

"You really can't blame me." I immediately regret it the moment the words come out of my mouth. Although Malfoy's face remains nonchalant, I can see the tension in his jaw.

"I'm sorry, that was low."

"You don't have to apologize. You had every right to say that," Malfoy says flatly.

I suppose I did. He's said all the bad things about me at school and called me awful names. But it doesn't give me an excuse to do the same to him when he's clearly changed from being that sodding prat.

We're both silent even after the red-haired waitress serves us our food.

"The food's really good here," I say after a while, in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

"Please, don't stop at my expense Granger," Malfoy says dryly as he puts down his fork. "Go on."

"I'm just really curious–," I start.

"You're always curious," he interrupts. I ignore him. At least he sounds more like himself again.

"What exactly changed your mind? About Muggleborns and Muggles I mean," I finish.

He considers my question for a second before answering.

"There was a point when I just realized that none of it mattered."

I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't. I don't press him for the same reason that I hate being forced to divulge about personal things I want to keep private.

"So why did you become an Auror?" I ask, veering away from the previous topic. Besides, I've been wondering about this for a while. And Malfoy seems to appreciate the subject change.

"I just thought I'm a pretty decent dueler so why not do something I'm already good at," he says as a matter-of-factly. Arrogant git. "Unlike Potter, I'm not noble."

"Ha! You complimented Harry just now," I tell him.

"Being noble can be two things Granger – it's either you're saintly or just plain stupid. Neither one's a good thing."

"You are so cynical," I scoff at him.

"I'm not. You Gryffindors are just too optimistic for your own good."

And so for the rest of the meal, we argued on which House is better – Gryffindor or Slytherin. Even after graduating from Hogwarts, its students never really get over the House prejudice. When we get out of the restaurant, we decide to drop it and talk more about work.

We're walking along Churchill Street and when we're in front of a three-storey green building, I stop. So does Malfoy.

"This is me," I say.

He raises his eyebrow.

"I didn't realize we were walking to your place."

"It was near the restaurant," I say, shrugging.

"Well–"

Suddenly, we hear a scuffing sound. Malfoy stands still and looks at something behind me. His eyes widen.

"Damn it," he curses under his breath.

"Wha–?" I say and turn when Malfoy swiftly moves in front of me and whips out his wand while his left arm stretches out protectively. Over Malfoy's shoulder, I can see a face – Fenrir Greyback's. He looks straight at me with venomous eyes. Then his face spreads into a wild grin, his pointed teeth showing.

"Hello Mudblood."