A/N: Wow, hi everyone! I did not expect such a wonderful response to Chapter 1, but I'm excited and a bit intimidated to have you all here. Thank you all so much for your love—I hope I don't let you down! This chapter is one of my favorites, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 2 - Healer Next Door

Little Miss Swot's all grown up.

The words grated on her ears, and she resisted the urge to crumple up the paper in front of her and hurl it in his ugly, smirky face.

But even as she thought it, a tiny, timid voice in the back of her head protested her evaluation of his face as ugly.

And then she realised she was staring at him, mouth agape, while his grin grew larger, curling up his cheeks in the most attractive little—

"So, Granger, he'll be joining Witch Weekly as a counterpart to your advice column. We'll have to come up with some catchy title for it…" Davison mused to himself, snapping his fingers after a moment. "Wizard— nah, too cheesy."

Finally, the gears in Hermione's head started moving again; she turned to Daphne, who smiled sheepishly at her. "He's really not all bad, 'Mione."

Her hackles rose at the nickname, and she shook her head. "He could have the Minister for Magic's stamp of approval and I still wouldn't want to work with him."

His sarcastic drawl sounded behind her. "I could arrange for that; Minister Shacklebolt has been known to attend a show or two."

The frustration built to a head, and she pushed herself back from the table. "This is ridiculous." An angry blush stained her chest, but she crossed the room anyway, pointing at the vision board she'd painstakingly arranged for the new year. Almost of its own accord, her hand flew up, jabbing at the words and images tacked to the board. "Where does this… this misogynistic drivel fit into the 'Modern Witch' we've identified as our target market?"

Davison opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione slashed her hand through the air. "Not done yet, Davison." She could feel the stern pinch to her lips, a distant part of her utterly aware of how maniacal she looked pointing at the different sections on the board, but she didn't care. "We're supposed to be teaching young witches that looks don't matter. I'm supposed to just let Malfoy waltz onto our staff and undo all the hard work we've put into this?"

Daphne leaned her elbows on the table, her brow knitting as she offered her suggestion with a tentative upturn of her hand. "What if you worked together?"

All the colour drained from Hermione's face as she turned to her friend. "What?"

Chewing on her lip, Daphne picked up her quill, twirling it between her fingers. "Davison is right; our target market has narrowed significantly, and with it, we've lost revenue." An apology flashed in her eyes as she glanced away from Hermione. "If it saves the magazine, we've got to do it."

The tension in the room settled on her shoulders. Daphne refused to meet her gaze; Davison looked like he was mere seconds from pulling the last bit of funding they had; and Malfoy's grin bordered on obscene.

She felt the loss before Davison rose from the table. He picked up the papers in front of him, deliberately stacking them neatly together. Calculating pleasure glowed on his face, and Hermione momentarily relished in the idea of hexing it off. "Look, Granger, I respect what you're doing here, helping shape the lives of young witches and wizards."

His sarcastic tone wasn't lost on Hermione, and she rocked up on her toes to protest. "But if we—"

Davison shook his head. "You have two options: work with Draco or lose the magazine."

Lose the magazine. The ultimatum hit her like a physical blow. It'd been the unspoken threat, the pendulum over her head slowing ticking away until it fell, ugly and final, on top of her. Her shoulders slumped for a brief moment before she straightened.

If this was going to happen, she'd do it her way or none at all. "Malfoy. A moment?"

Bewilderment flitted across his face, but he followed her through the door when she stomped past him. His footfalls echoed hollowly on the carpeted floor, their even swagger enough to drive her mad. When she entered her office and propped herself up against her desk, arms folded beneath her breasts, she took several steadying breaths until he closed the door.

He was smirking when he turned around, and it took everything she had in her not to throttle him. A low whistle accompanied his roaming gaze. "I have to admit, Granger, I was wrong. Very wrong. If I'd known you'd grow up to look like that, I may have been a little nicer to you at Hogwarts." His eyes settled back on hers, an unwelcome approval shining in them. "You're not ugly at all."

A wrathful chuckle barked out of her, and she stood, crossing the room until she entered his space. He had a good few inches on her, but she didn't allow that to quell her rage as she poked a finger into his chest. "Let's get a few things straight, Malfoy. First, you work for me. Anything that gets published is approved by me or doesn't go in. Understood?"

Amusement flashed in his steely eyes, and he dipped his head. "Understood, Granger." Her surname was a caress on his tongue. "Anything else?"

She faltered, trying to ignore the intrigue that flashed through her when his gaze roamed lower. "You're not to sleep with my employees; workplace romances are strictly forbidden."

A smarmy grin. "Can't help it that I'm irresistible, Granger. Witches like a bad boy."

Her eyes narrowed, a disbelieving scoff escaping her. "You're not a bad boy, Malfoy. You're a washed up Death Eater that gets off on making women uncomfortable and capitalising on their insecurities." The angry burn that settled in his eyes bolstered her, and she stepped farther into his space. "I'll work with you, but only because it's the only way to save my job. Are we clear?"

Tight lines etched themselves into his forehead. "Crystal." Jaw working, he eliminated the distance between them, his chest brushing her own. Her breath caught in her throat, an embarrassing gasp at his proximity, and his gaze dipped to her lips. "Christ, Granger, you're wound like a top."

And just like that, the spell broke, and she reeled backwards, cursing herself. When she safely maneuvered around her desk, she placed her palms on it, glaring him down. "Those are the terms."

Arms crossing, Draco followed her path, dropping into the same chair that Daphne occupied frequently. He crossed one leg over his knee languidly. "Agreed, then." Hermione nodded, cursing Davison for putting her in this situation, when he spoke up. "With one amendment."

Apprehension bristled over her skin. "I'm waiting."

A cheshire grin snaked up his face, and the knot in her stomach clenched tighter, coiling in her belly as she waited for him to speak. "I'll work with you. I'll agree to all of your terms and be on my best behavior… if you let me help you."

That was… not what she'd been expecting. Her eyebrows rose into her hairline, suspicion racing through her. Despite herself, she allowed a laugh to bubble up out of her, mirth escaping her breathlessly. "Why in Merlin's name would you want to help me, Malfoy?" She didn't catch the way his eyes brightened, and she hastened to add, "Not that I need your help."

He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head as he shrugged. "To be determined." At her indignant squawk, he raised a brow at her. "If you want to save the magazine…"

Frustration lanced through her… and though she tried, she couldn't ignore the way his shirt pulled up enticingly, showing off the sharp lines of a muscular vee disappearing…

Then Malfoy was leaning towards her again, unfolding himself from his casual pose and extending his hand, his abdominal muscles hidden safely beneath his t-shirt again. "What do you say, Granger? Truce?"

"You'll start with an introductory piece that will be heavily vetted." Her hand was moving before she could stop it, slipping into his larger, much softer than she expected, hand with only a twinge of apprehension. For the magazine, that's all. "Truce."

When she finally got home that night, Hermione's nerves were shot. Sitting across from Draco Malfoy all afternoon while he made quips about wizards dating and shot flirty glances at Daphne was enough to drive even a saint insane.

He was just so smug. Every idea she'd had for a column he'd countered with some ridiculous rubbish about being a single man in modern wizarding times.

As she climbed the last few steps up to her flat, she couldn't help mimicking him. "It's all about the looks, Granger. If a witch doesn't have them, she'll never catch a wizard's attention." Her voice was far more nasally than his, a poor caricature of the deeply masculine tone he'd matured into since leaving Hogwarts. She waved her wand in a small arc, unlocking the door and watching it swing open even as her wand slipped from her hand. In slow motion, she flailed for it, the sudden motion overturning the stack of paperwork in her hands and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Oh, bugger it all." Dropping to her knees, Hermione tried to sweep the stack of papers back into a manageable pile. The slick proof pages refused to cooperate, so she reached for her discarded wand just before a plaintive mew drew her attention upward.

Crookshanks sat on the threshold, his squashed nose turned up in haughty judgement as she tried again to wrangle the pages. His yellow eyes turned to slits, eyeing a piece of fabric that she'd tucked within the pages to mark where she'd left off in the office.

Guilt descended on her like a lead weight when she realised she was late home—and therefore late to feed him—for the fourth time in the last week. She sighed, reaching a hand up to pet his coarse orange fur, when a slight breeze swept down the side street, sending the papers skittering down the cobbles.

Merow.

Her gaze snapped up to Crookshanks in time to watch his tail twitch, laser focused on the scrap of fabric beside her knee. "Crooks, let's just go inside. Have a little snack…"

His head tipped at the word, a muffled chirp escaping him in response.

"Yeah, we'll just get a little snack. You want some tuna?" She rose slowly, a hand outstretched in front of her as though she was calming a hippogriff instead of a three-and-a-half kilogram kneazle, but another gust of wind blew down the street. The scrap of fabric soared into the air, fluttering in arcs down the walkway, and Crookshanks flew past her, an orange blur as he took off after his prey.

"Shite." Papers forgotten, Hermione reeled after Crookshanks, cursing herself, the wind, and anything she could think of for her shoddy luck as she raced after her kneazle.

His furry arse streaked down the walkway, bushy tail bobbing behind him, a flag she followed as he rounded the corner of her flat. She breathed a rugged sigh of relief even as a sharp pain ached in her side; around the corner was only one other flat and then the next building over, so she knew he couldn't make it far.

Sure enough, as she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Crookshanks sitting on the unoccupied neighboring stoop, the piece of fabric held proudly between his teeth.

Stopping with her hands on her hips, she laughed, breath gusting out heavily when two things happened simultaneously.

First, the door to the previously unoccupied flat opened behind Crookshanks, and he darted inside with what she swore was a triumphant smirk.

Then something wrapped around her waist, squeezing the breath out of her in a surprised huff.

"Oh, blimey, not again. Lumos Solem!"

With a shriek, the vines receded, and Hermione sucked in a grateful breath. The sudden return of oxygen to her head made her stumble, but strong arms wrapped around her, the heady scent of cloves blanketing her. "Whoa, there. I've got you."

Slowly, her gaze traveled up the stranger's arms… very muscular arms clad in a smart collared shirt that accentuated every last peak and valley in his chest, and Hermione only realised she was staring when he set her upright. Sense came back to her all at once, and she snapped her hands, still clinging to his very trim waist, back to her side. "Erm, thanks for that; I don't know what happened."

Kind green eyes stared down at her, laugh lines spider-webbing out from their creases. "You're welcome. Not the first victim the Devil's Snare has claimed today." He waved down at his arm, an angry red mark standing out beneath shiny, freshly-healed skin.

She let out a chuckle. "Honestly, who plants Devil's Snare outside their flat? Must be mad." When he opened his mouth to respond, she groaned, sticking out a hand. "And I ought to introduce myself. Hermione Granger." She gestured over her shoulder. "Your neighbor round the corner. And the cat is my half-Kneazle, Crookshanks; I'm sorry he's a menace."

A lopsided grin lilted his lips even as his gaze flickered down and back to her face, sending a thrill of satisfaction through her. Even after getting attacked by a mad plant, he was checking her out. Result. "Theodore Nott, though my friends call me Theo." She shook his hand firmly, releasing it only to have him slide it behind his neck. A lovely rosy hue emerged along his cheekbones and the tips of his ear as he averted his gaze. "Lovely to meet you, Hermione, but er, you might—" His free hand waved at her front.

A frown pulled at her lips as she looked down, and then her heart nearly fell out her arse.

The deep scoop neck of her blouse hung low, nestled beneath her breasts. The position pushed her bra up proudly, her ladies on full, perky display for him in the cool evening air. To make matters worse, the plant slithering over her exposed flesh had sent a smattering of goose flesh over her skin, and her nipples stood at attention, their puckered tips obvious beneath the thin fabric of her bra.

Merlin, Morgana, and Nimue, she was going to have to move.

She wanted to melt right into the ground, have it open up and swallow her whole as he averted his gaze while she yanked up the blouse. Settling it in place, she cleared her throat. "Right, well, uh, good to meet you, Theo. I suppose I ought to fetch my cat and get home."

Her words seemed to snap him out of his embarrassment as he turned a bright smile on her, gesturing for her to follow him. "Right. Little guy is quite the runner, isn't he? While you're here, I can give you some salve for the burn marks. Devil's Snare isn't the kindest in its hold, is it?"

The smile that she gave him was slightly dazed when his hand settled on her lower back, ushering her up the steps and into his flat.

Inside, boxes littered almost every surface. The only available places to sit were two rickety chairs in his kitchen, a box of takeout cooling on the counter. In one of the chairs, Crookshanks sat proudly cleaning his paws, the scrap of fabric nestled neatly at his feet.

Smug little prat.

Theo steered her forwards, depositing her in the chair unoccupied by her furry menace. She'd only just settled backwards with a deep sigh before she shot up with a hiss, hand flying to her ribcage where the Devil's Snare had constricted tightly.

Though Theo had been on his way out of the room, he froze, wheeling around to crouch before her. "Where's it hurt?" His kind eyes were all business, attention trained on the section of her abdomen she clutched tightly. "Can you explain what it feels like?"

Her breath hissed out of her before she answered him. "Along my ribs." She removed her hand and gestured to them. "It's really tight, but it mostly hurts to take a deep breath."

Theo hummed to himself, lifting his hand. Just before it reached her, he paused, flicking his gaze to her face. "May I?"

Heart fluttering, she nodded, wincing a bit when it jarred her injury. Soft, tentative fingers pressed against her blouse over her ribs, a concentrated frown marring his features. After a couple moments of cautious prodding, he rocked back on his heels. "I hate to ask this given I've only just met you, but well…" He ran his hand through sandy brown locks. "It'd be far easier to assess the damage if you lifted your blouse a bit."

Colour raced to Hermione's cheeks, her ability to articulate anything lost when he drew his lip between his teeth. "I, uhhh—"

His mouth dropped open in an oh, a self-deprecating smile replacing it. "I'm a Healer, just hired at St. Mungo's, actually." He shook his head. "Probably should have mentioned that before I started feeling you up like a wanker." The tips of his ears flushed an attractive shade of pink.

Some of her nerves drained away, and Hermione nodded, though she couldn't help the flutter of something in her stomach when she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt. "Mind if I—" She canted her head to the side. He nodded, so she shifted, breathing tightly as pain lanced through her again.

Slowly, she dragged her shirt upward, the cool air in his flat kissing her bare skin. Goose flesh that had nothing to do with the chill and everything to do with his gentle hands tracing along her ribs raced along her exposed skin.

He mistook her sharp breath for pain, and he frowned sympathetically. "It looks like they're broken. Damn Devil's Snare." He stood abruptly, walking away from her while she lowered her shirt and gathered her wits about her. "I've got a bruise paste around here somewhere that'll take care of the external injuries. I'm afraid I'll have to give you Skele-Gro to mend the bones."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but she nodded. "Is it necessary? Couldn't I just—"

"Let it heal the Muggle way?" He cracked a grin at her sheepish nod, embarrassment deepening the colour already marring her skin. "You could, but it'll be painful; ribs take a while to heal. I know the Skele-Gro isn't ideal, but it'll be healed quick as a whip."

Disappointment was a blow to her ego, but she pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. "Suppose it's a good thing I've a Healer next door then, isn't it?"

His smile was blinding, the lopsided quirk of his lips an endearing trait that softened the sharply masculine planes of his face. "I'll even assist free of charge." He shook his head at Crooks, who looked on with an utterly unimpressed tilt of his head. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting your mum hurt like that." His voice took on a high-pitched tone as he chuffed Crooks playfully on the head, ruffling his orange fur.

Oh gods, he did not just baby talk to her cat.

Her mind ran away with her. Late nights alternating flats wrapped up in each other, cuddling Crooks between them. Kissing each other after work, Theo still donned in his Healer robes, and—

"Hermione?" He stood before her, a quizzical lift to his brow as he extended the Skele-Gro. "Everything all right?"

She nodded, taking the extended bottle with a half smile. She uncorked it, plugged her nose, and tilted the vial back, grimacing at the tartness that assaulted her taste buds. Harsh and sulfuric, the potion burned as it slid down the back of her throat. Nose wrinkling again, Hermione handed the empty vial back to him. "That was revolting."

Even as she spoke, though, she could feel the bruises mending, stitching themselves together, and after a moment, she could breathe easier. Theo crouched before her, settling a hand on her knee as she drew her shirt upright again so he could rub the deep green bruise paste over her skin.

His warm breath gusted over her as he spoke. "This will likely stain your skin and blouse, but it's the best there is. Got it made specifically for me by my old Potions Master. Sometimes it helps to be the teacher's pet." He cracked a toothy grin at her as he rose, wiping his hands on dusty trousers.

Gods, she could practically hear the boxes on her list of ideal traits in a man checking themselves off.

She answered his smile with her own, the pain nearly entirely gone. "It does have its merits." Her brow wrinkled as he transferred some of the paste to a plastic bag, sealing it tightly before he handed it over to her. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognise you; did you go to Hogwarts?"

He hummed, shaking his head as he puttered around the kitchen, grabbing a couple vials of pain potion to add to the assortment of other vials he handed her. "No, though I was supposed to. My mother convinced my father to place me at Durmstrang; they wanted to avoid that mess with Voldemort, for which I'm grateful."

The jealousy that shot through her was not unexpected, but she tried to quell it just the same. "That would have been nice."

Just as the words slipped from her lips, playfulness danced in his eyes. "You lot took the brunt of it, I think. Don't think I didn't recognise your name." Heat traveled through her as they locked gazes. "Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio? You're an international hero."

The media's nickname for Harry, Ron, and herself made her cringe, so she digressed with a grimace. "It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be; honestly, it was mostly Harry." Gathering her feet beneath her, Hermione stood, twisting to test her range of motion.

Suddenly, Theo was before her, his green eyes gazing down at her seriously as he thrust a small cardboard box of potions into her hands. "I've heard the stories; you're being modest." His fingertips brushed overs hers as she accepted the potions. "I thought the escape from Gringotts on the back of the dragon was rather inspired."

Oh gods. Words… she needed words to respond, but the way his cheek curled so delicately around his dimple ought to be a crime. Thankfully, Crookshanks chose that moment to squawk pitifully, and she whirled, potions in hand, to calm him.

"Oh, Crooks, I'm sorry. We've got to get you home so you can eat, don't we?" she cooed down at him, intensely aware of Theo's gaze resting between her shoulder blades. Her attempt to gather Crookshanks under her arm failed spectacularly when he flailed in her hold, worming out of her grasp and onto the floor.

With an accusing glare, he curled around Theo's ankles, a baleful meow accompanying his movement.

"Ah, come here, sweet boy." Before Hermione could warn him of her cat's arseholish tendencies, Theo bent and scooped Crookshanks up under his belly, depositing him upside down in his hold like a furry infant.

Her breath stalled in her throat while she waited for the inevitable. She expected Crooks to yowl, to swipe Theo across the face with every last one of his claws with human-like satisfaction, to dig his claws into his arms in a foothold to peel out.

Instead, Crooks nudged his head against Theo's chest and began purring away like his life depended on it. Theo buried a hand in the thick fur of his stomach, scratching it gently.

Bewildered was an understatement, and Hermione blinked several times before she could speak. "He likes you… and he doesn't like anyone. Not even me sometimes."

The grin that brightened his features made her knees weak. "Animals love me." He paused in his stroking of Crookshanks' belly, who immediately wrapped his paws around Theo's hand and nipped it lightly until he resumed. With a chuckle, Theo lifted his gaze to hers. "Why don't I walk you home? Seems like my new friend isn't quite ready to say good-bye."

His eyes flashed with a meaning that Hermione couldn't bring herself to analyse lest she be let down, so she nodded mutely, leading him towards his own door. They exited one after the other, walking down the cobbles in relative silence until he spoke as they skirted around the Devil's Snare.

"It's nice here. At least, it seems to be so far." She felt his gaze cut to her.

Small talk. Okay, she could do this. This was familiar territory. "It is. The neighborhood stays pretty quiet. Most of the neighbors are old retirees who just want a quiet place to enjoy some peace."

Silence again. After a moment, he said, "These flats are relatively new, aren't they?"

"Observant. They were built after the war. Vodemort razed this entire area. It used to be quite popular among Muggle-borns. Thankfully, they had long since gone into hiding before he made it here, but they never returned." She contemplated her next words for a moment. "I suppose it just didn't feel safe for them anymore."

Theo caught the words she didn't say. "But it does for you—feel safe?"

She allowed the sounds of the night to settle around them, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. As they walked, she glimpsed pages of her proofs caught in bushes, and she summoned them with a flick of her wrist, directing the parchments to stack themselves neatly on her doorstep. "It doesn't feel any less safe here than anywhere else does anymore."

"Perils of surviving a war." A sympathetic smile graced his lips as they paused on her doorstep. He leaned down, placing Crookshanks on his feet, and shooed the cat inside before gathering her proofs for her. He flipped through the first few pages, surprise arcing his eyebrows upward. "Witch Weekly?"

"How about we start over, no Devil's Snare to mangle me this time?" Hermione grinned, sticking her hand out. "Hermione Granger, Editor-in-Chief of Witch Weekly magazine for young witches."

Theo's smile matched her own, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "Theodore Nott, St. Mungo's newest resident Healer and your next door neighbor."

As her hand slid into his, Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation course through her. He held it longer than was necessary, his gaze snagged on hers.

Summoning a quill from where she'd discarded it on her stoop to chase after Crooks, Theo released her and began writing. "Here." On the top corner of the parchment, he scrawled his address. "I'm just around the corner, but here's my Floo code. If your ribs give you trouble, call me. Any time." He settled the papers in her hand, lingering again as he stared down at her.

Hermione couldn't contain the brilliant smile that flared to life on her cheeks. "I'll do that."

Merow!

With a chuckle, he released her hands, backing down the step. "Sounds like someone needs your attention. I'll see you around, Hermione." Hands slipping into his pockets, he backed away, one side of his lips turned up as he left.

"See you around," she whispered, turning to enter her apartment. In a fit of inspiration, she whirled around, stepping back out on the stoop just before he rounded the corner. "Theo!"

He paused, turning on his heel to gaze back at her quizzically.

"It was nice to meet you." She felt colour rise to her cheeks and silently thanked Merlin that the street light wasn't bright enough for him to tell.

His hand rising in a wave, he responded, "It was nice to meet you, too, Hermione."

Before she could do something stupid like ask him on a date, Hermione dipped backed into the house, pressing her back against the door while her heart thundered in her chest.

She had a new neighbor. A cute new neighbor. Merlin help her, but she hoped this didn't turn out to be another dumpster fire like Viktor.

Meow!

Crookshanks smacked a paw against her leg, staring up at her with his judgy yellow eyes. On a sigh, she pushed herself away from the door to get him his well-deserved dinner. "Yes, thank you, you furry arsehole."

Without my two incredible alphas, I would not be posting this fic! If you haven't already, go check out LadyKenz347's Flirting with Disaster. It's an absolutely brilliant Teddy x Hermione that was just completed! You should also go follow mcal! She's in the process of writing a BRILLIANT Remus x Tonks piece that I'm SO excited to read.

In addition, my two betas for this chapter knocked it out of the park. I'm biased because I betaed it, but dreamsofdramione's Collision Course is brilliant. Last but absolutely not least, go read In_Dreams' iBoardwalk/i to gear up for her long fic coming in the future—you won't regret it!

Thanks for all your love!