Roses are red

Violets are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

Thank you as always to my alpha/beta and friend Littlered1992.

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"I'm sorry, Draco." Hermione sighed and flopped down into her armchair, a mobile phone pressed to her ear.

"Don't apologise," Draco's voice crackled through the receiver. "Pansy should be the one who's sorry; why she went to Vivienne and outed you like that…" he trailed off, his breath leaving him in an exasperated exhale.

"I know exactly why she did it," Hermione said darkly, slinging her legs over the side of her seat. "She saw us on Saturday and wanted revenge; I wouldn't be surprised if she pays you a visit in the next few days expecting you to thank her for the favour."

Draco snorted. "She'd have to be pretty thick."

"Well I don't remember her getting many O. back at Hogwarts."

Hermione smirked as Draco chuckled.

"Granger," he suddenly interrupted, "I'm getting another call; I'll ring you back."

He disconnected before she could say goodbye, and she huffed as she lowered the phone away from her face.

"Blaise."

Draco stood from the recliner he had perched in and walked aimlessly across the room.

"Draco," Blaise's voice was muffled, the sound of the wind entering the receiver and garbling his words. "I've just left the office; Pansy Floo'd me."

Draco exhaled forcefully through his nose. "Did she tell you?"

"She thought I'd be glad," the Italian growled. "How is Granger?"

Draco scoffed. Blaise was not an emotional man and his business savvy attitude eclipsed every feeling he had ever experienced, but the blond thought it might be nice of his friend to ask how he was first.

"She's fine. She quit."

"Good," Blaise huffed. There was a creaking sound, a thud, and then the wind stopped. "Listen," his voice was crisper now, though it still echoed as if he were in an open space, "I think I need to come back and do some damage control. I can't help feeling like I'm responsible for this mess."

"Don't be stupid," Draco snorted as he came to a stop in front of an antique vase. He ran a finger down the smooth object absentmindedly. "You weren't to know Pansy would go and blab. Besides, now that Granger isn't working at the Ministry, she's able to spend more time on my mother's case."

"She started her own firm?"

"No," Draco said slowly. "She's just helping me."

"At the Manor?"

Draco wasn't sure he liked Blaise's tone. He bit back a sigh. "Yes, at the Manor. I'm still under house arrest for another two months."

There was a pause, and then. "I've just arrived at the office. I need to reschedule some things, update my Vice and ensure he can take over for a while. I'll see you around dinner time in Wiltshire."

"That's not – ," Draco started to argue, but Blaise had already disconnected the call.

Draco thought about calling him back, but he knew it would do no good; Blaise was almost as stubborn as Granger.

With a sigh, Draco called for Miksy. He asked her to make up one of the guest rooms for Blaise, and then retired to his study, hoping that his friend's stay would be a short one.

As threatened, Hermione arrived promptly at Malfoy Manor on Friday morning. She was greeted at the door by Miksy, and led into the sitting room. They had not met in there since she had agreed to allow Malfoy to help her work on Narcissa's case, but she figured that Draco wouldn't want to allow another Ministry hag into his library.

"Morning," she greeted him as she entered. He was sitting in the armchair she had always thought of as 'his' during their earlier meetings. He glanced up quickly, his face furrowed into a frown. He relaxed as he realised that it was her.

"Hey, Granger," he said softly. "Any idea who will be joining us today?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, her brown curls bouncing. "With any luck, it'll be Morag; I can reason with her well enough."

Draco nodded slowly, but the worried expression did not fade from his face. Hermione was worried too, though she didn't want to let him know that. Though she hoped, she knew that it would be highly unlikely that Vivienne would send Morag. The blonde bimbo wasn't stupid; Morag respected Hermione, and would help facilitate whatever plans the Golden Girl came up with. There weren't that many case managers, however; only Hermione, Morag, and…

"Good morning."

Vivienne.

The blonde witch fixed Hermione with an icy stare, a contrast to the brunette's fiery expression.

"What are you doing here?"

It was a stupid question; it was obvious what she was doing here; what she really wanted to know was why.

"I am Draco Malfoy's new case manager," she turned to Draco and extended her hand. "Vivienne Weasley; we've never been formally introduced though I believe you know my cousins quite well."

"Indeed," Draco accepted her hand and shook it quickly. His face was impassive but Hermione could see that his eyes had tightened and the grey depths of his irises swirled with mistrust. "Please, have a seat."

Vivienne's grin widened as she folded herself into an armchair. Hermione glared back at her and folded her arms across her chest.

"Mister Malfoy," Vivienne began. "I'm here on behalf of the Ministry to conduct an interview to ascertain whether both parties are adhering to the agreement compiled at the time of your release."

Hermione rolled her eyes; and people thought she was wordy! Vivienne continued in the same vein, using flowery language to word each mundane question, all which Draco had memorised during their first meetings. Every now and then the blond witch would get off topic and provide silly anecdotes of her own life, none of which had any bearing on what she was here to do.

Draco looked ready to burst, and Hermione was fighting a serious urge to punch her ex-boss when they were mercifully interrupted.

"Honey, I'm home!" The sarcastic drawl of Blaise Zabini preceded the clicking of his shoes against the marble floors, and the appearance of his masculine frame as it rounded the doorway.

He arched an eyebrow as he took in the scene before him, the rest of his face an emotionless mask.

"Oh, hello," he said warmly, glancing between Hermione and Vivienne. "I was unaware you would be entertaining today, Draco." His question was directed at his scowling childhood friend, but his gaze had not left Vivienne's face.

"Zabini," the witch replied coolly. "Lovely to see you again."

Blaise grinned, showing all of his perfectly white teeth. The action did not reach his eyes. "I wish I could say the same, Greengrass." He inclined his head politely as he retreated from the room.

Vivienne's cheeks tinged pink, but she clamped her mouth shut and turned her attention back to Draco.

"As I was saying, Mr Malfoy," she sniffed. "The Ministry needs to know if you have been in communication with either of your parents."

"I haven't heard from either of them." Draco's tone was neutral, but Hermione detected the bitterness reflected in his otherwise dismissive eyes.

Vivienne tutted. "Given up that easily, have you?" She was goading him, and Hermione had opened her mouth to tell her exactly where she could go, but Draco caught her eye and shook his head. She clamped her teeth over her tongue and bit down hard.

"No," Draco said quietly with a furtive glance back at Hermione. "Granger here is working on my mother's case; all communication goes through her."

Vivienne blinked. "Of course," she said slowly. The witch shuffled some papers and scrawled some notes on a blank piece of parchment. She dotted the final period with a flourish and then looked up at Hermione. "And what correspondence have you had with Narcissa Malfoy?" She arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a cocky expression.

Hermione pasted a smile on to her face and adopted a false, cheery sort of tone. "That is confidential information."

"It is information the Ministry needs to ensure Mister Malfoy's needs are addressed while he is still under house arrest."

"Is it really, though?" Hermione questioned, still in the saccharine voice. "Because, forgive me, I fail to see how me communicating with his mother regarding her case has any bearing on Draco's wellbeing insofar as it concerns the Ministry."

Vivienne narrowed her eyes. "I – "

"As a private party simply here to support my client, I believe you asking me questions is a waste of all our time."

"Tea?"

Hermione jumped slightly at the intrusion. Blaise was back, holding a silver tea tray. On it sat a large white tea pot and four tea cups. She stifled a giggle as he came to a stop in front of them all and set the tray down on the coffee table; he had wrapped a frilly pink apron over his expensive-looking suit.

As he stood, he gave them a nod and stepped backwards. Hermione turned towards Draco, who was staring up at his friend with a mixed look of admiration and shock. Laughter bubbled up in Hermione's chest and she had to cough to hide it. Vivienne was looking slightly flustered.

"Thank you," she said in the false voice she usually adopted around the upper management when she wanted something from them. "White, two sugars, please."

Blaise smirked and mock-bowed. He busied himself with arranging Vivienne's tea and then handing her the cup; he did not bother to ask Hermione or Draco whether they would like anything.

When the blonde witch sat with her beverage in hand, Blaise untied the apron with dexterity and flung it over the three-seater before he plonked himself down next to Hermione. She rolled her eyes at him as he slung an arm across the back of it, his fingertips level with her right shoulder. She missed the way Draco's eyes narrowed at the movement; but Blaise didn't.

"Mister Zabini, this is a confidential meeting between myself and Mister Malfoy." Vivienne said in a would-be-casual voice; her gaze had followed Draco's, landing on the way Blaise's hand rested casually behind Hermione.

"Oh?" Said Zabini. "Is that why Granger's here?"

"Miss Granger is here because she is a representative of the Malfoy family," Vivienne said, her tone dismissive. Hermione ground her teeth together. She felt Blaise's fingertips graze her shoulder and she froze; was it an accident or was he trying to warn her?

"Then so am I," Blaise insisted. "I am here in support of Draco. The whole thing has just been so tough on him, mentally."

"You know," Vivienne set her tea on the coffee table and offered Blaise a winning smile. "I think the Ministry would be very interested to get your take on Mr Malfoy's case. You could help us review our practices…" she trailed off, blinking at twice the normal rate.

"Sure," Blaise said, his toothy smile back in place. "Does tomorrow suit? Around noon?"

"Yes," Vivienne nodded. She bent to shuffle her papers back into a leather-bound pouch. Snapping it shut, she placed it into her handbag and stood.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy," she gushed at Draco. Hermione tasted bile; how anyone could be so obviously fake was beyond her. Draco stood, his face impassive. He did not bid her goodbye, but he did offer her a half-hearted nod. "Until tomorrow, Blaise…" Vivienne fluttered her lashes in the Italian's direction; he smirked in response. She lingered long enough to shoot Hermione one last look of loathing, and then flounced from the room.

As soon as the front door clipped shut, Draco slumped back into his chair and covered his face with a hand. He groaned long and low, but it appeared Blaise was done playing the concerned friend. He turned to Hermione instead.

"Granger," he unhooked his arm from around her shoulders and offered her his hand. "Lovely to see you again; and I actually mean it."

Hermione almost believed him as she allowed him to shake her hand. "Likewise," she murmured.

"I hear you're working to free Narcissa."

"Have been for five years now," Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid it's going to take a little longer though."

"Because of that thing?" Blaise pointed towards the doorway of the sitting room, indicating Vivienne's exit route.

"Yes," Hermione enunciated slowly. "The Ministry are making things far more difficult than strictly necessary; we'll get there though," she nodded at Draco. "I managed to get him out, so…" she trailed off as a look of deep understanding crossed Blaise's face. She wasn't sure if it was a pleasant look.

"Well," he said, standing. "If I can be of any help, please don't hesitate to let me know." He offered her a wink and then buttoned his jacket and strode from the room.

Draco was still hiding behind his hand. "You always were a drama queen," Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood to leave as well. "I'll be back tomorrow for our next research session." She bent to pick up her bag, and Draco finally looked at her. "I have some errands to run this afternoon, but we'll continue on from last week. Okay?"

"When will you be able to see Mother again?"

Hermione sighed. She had hoped he would not ask that question. "Now that I'm no longer an employee of the Ministry, I'm afraid it's unlikely that I will be granted another portkey."

"Granger," Draco said, his body tensing. "It's been weeks and we're no closer to getting her out of there. She could be dead for all I know, she's not answering your letters, and now you're telling me you can't visit her?"

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said softly. She meant it, too; Draco seemed to pick up on this as his shoulders slumped and he squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment. When he opened them, they were glassy.

"What about Potter?"

"I don't think I can ask another favour like this of Harry," Hermione shook her head.

"Please?" Draco stood up and stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I need to know that she is okay; this cycle of researching and coming up empty handed, and then waiting for you to find something, and then back to researching is really getting to me. I'm stir crazy and I need to know."

Hermione bit her lip. She could hardly take in his words as the heat from his palms was melting through her sweater and muddling her thoughts. She could sense his desperation, but she knew she couldn't do as he asked this time.

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not longer an employee of the Ministry; Dewsong will never sign off on it, and it's unfair of me to put Harry under that sort of pressure."

Draco did not reply. He was staring intently down at her, his fingers beginning to trail down her arms. She realised that he was not looking into her eyes as he had been moments ago; his gaze was instead focused on her lips. She opened them to ask him what he was doing – his hands were now at her wrists – but her audible intake of breath seemed to bring him to his senses.

"Okay," Draco stepped back quickly, his hands dropping to his sides. Hermione cleared her throat as warmth flooded her cheeks. She chastised herself for being so foolish, but she could have sworn that he was going to kiss her.

"Goodbye," she said as she took a step back and stumbled into the coffee table. She righted herself and turned too quickly, tripping over her own feet as she skirted around the offending object.

Draco chuckled softly as she caught herself and hurried from the room. "Goodbye, Granger."

Blaise was a constant fixture for the next few days. He hovered during Draco's visit with Hermione, insisting on bringing them new books with potential leads, and drawing them in to conversations about their next move. Draco had known Blaise since he was born and could see straight through his helpful façade; he was keeping an eye on him and Granger.

Hermione was not known as the Brightest Witch of her Age for nothing; she knew what Blaise was doing. She just wasn't sure if it made her feel annoyed or amused. While it did mean that research was slow, it was at least entertaining with Blaise around. He also muted the awkwardness both Draco and Hermione felt after the meeting with Vivienne, so in a way Draco supposed he was grateful…at least a little bit.

That feeling ceased on the Monday following their Blaise-lead research, when Draco was visited by Pansy Parkinson. She arrived via the Floo in his study, rousing him from his desk as if someone had cast a fire charm on the chair.

"Draco," she purred, dusting the soot from the front of her robes. "I've been expecting your call."

"Really, why?" He folded his arms across his chest and fixed her with a solid glare.

"We didn't get to finish our conversation the other day." Pansy's eyes flashed with something akin to fear, but she jutted out her chin as she spoke, her tone even.

"I can't believe you think that I have anything more to say to you, Parkinson."

"Come now, Draco." The witch stepped further into the room. He could smell her sickly perfume; subconsciously, he leaned away. "Let's not be immature about this."

"I'm being immature?" Draco scoffed. "Pansy, you accosted me last week and then ensured my mother's fate would be finalised in that hell hole of a prison!" He was shouting now, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Nonsense," Pansy waved a hand in front of her as if she could simply swat away the truth of his words. "I only came over here to talk about colour schemes; it's hardly my fault if Granger got caught in the crossfire. She shouldn't have been here in the first place."

Draco sighed, exasperation rolling off him in waves. Pansy had been one of his closest friends for too many years; he didn't want to hurt her. "That's not your call, Pans," he said quietly. "This is my house, and I am free to invite whomever I choose to visit me."

"Well, for now, maybe." Pansy smiled, though the action did not reach her eyes. "But when we are married – "

"We're not getting married," Draco said flatly.

"Of course we are."

"No," Draco stepped around his desk and came to stand in front of Pansy, his hands finding her shoulders. "We're not." He looked into her face, searching for evidence of her understanding.

He found none.

"But I don't..." she trailed off, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip protruded in a pout Draco might have once found cute, but now found utterly irritating.

"Merlin, Pansy." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and ran his long fingers through his hair. "We're not getting married; that agreement was drawn up over ten years ago and never signed. Read my lips, witch; it does not exist."

Pansy looked as if Draco had slapped her. "So that's it then?" She choked, a red flush crawling its way across her cheeks. "You're calling off the engagement?"

"There never was an engagement!" Draco erupted, flinging his arms wide.

Pansy was silent for a few moments, her expression a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak. Draco almost felt sorry for her as he stood not a pace from her, nostrils flared and breathing heavily.

"Just know," she spat as she gathered up her coat and backed up towards the fireplace, "that I'm the best you will ever have, Draco Malfoy. Call me when you've figured that out."

In a cloud of green, she was gone. She had barely left the grate when Blaise appeared.

"Hey," he grinned as he waltzed into the study. "Were you yelling at someone?"

"Pansy," Draco ground out, returning to his desk. "The one time you leave me alone, she turns up."

Blaise's eyes went wide. "I promise I didn't know she was planning to visit; I haven't spoken to her since she rang to tell me about Granger."

Draco sighed. "I believe you." He placed his elbows on the surface of the desk and rested his head in his hands.

"Speaking of, how is the Golden Girl? Has she cracked the code yet?"

"No," Draco muttered. "It's going to take more than a few days and some hope, Blaise."

"I have faith," the Italian wizard replied sagely as he sat in a chair opposite Draco. "Granger never did know how to let things go. My bet is that with her tenacity, your mother will be free by the end of the month."

Draco made a noise of assent in his throat but did not reply. He would not admit out loud that he was indeed hoping that Granger would pull this off sooner rather than later. He had never been one for hoping or relying on other people to care for his family; this was new territory, and it was terrifying.

Blaise would not afford him the luxury of brooding, however. His friend appeared to have brought the conversation around to the topic he was most eager to discuss.

"You and Granger," he began as he adjusted the buttons on his suit, "you make quite the team."

Draco appraised Blaise from between his fingers. The Italian smirked, and Draco sighed in annoyance. "Don't start with that again please, Blaise. I'm begging you; I do not need to be warned off from Granger. I know she isn't right for me."

"That's not what I was going to say." Blaise's smirk widened.

"I can only imagine what is rolling around inside your egg-shaped head now," Draco half-groaned. He sat back, allowing his full weight to push against the high backing of his chair.

"My head is a perfectly normal shape, thank you very much." Blaise rubbed at his scalp subconsciously. "And don't try to change the subject."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come on then, get it over with."

Blaise shrugged, lacing his fingers together over his abdomen as he rested in his seat. "I fear I need to retract my earlier warnings; the way you two move around each other is actually perfect."

Draco choked on a laugh. What kind of a sick joke was this?

"I mean it, Draco," Blaise sat forward again, his arms resting on the desk as he looked imploringly into the blond's face. "You and Granger actually look good together. And when you nearly kissed her…" he trailed off, making a low whistling noise through pursed lips.

"What are you talking about?" Draco's ears were ringing and he was suspicious that he had somehow crossed into an alternative universe. "I didn't nearly kiss Granger!"

"Wow," Blaise's smirk was back. "You really are thick; good luck to Granger, I guess."

He stood and stretched, but Draco's brain had started to catch up. "Oh, I get it," the blond grinned as he slowly rose from his seat. "You want me to seduce Granger to quicken the process of my mother's hearing."

"What?" Blaise blinked. "No, you prat; I'm being honest here. Have you ever known me to speak otherwise?"

"On several occasions," Draco deadpanned.

Blaise huffed. "Girls at Hogwarts don't count." He pointed a ring-clad finger at Draco and raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious about this, mate; you and Granger have synergy."

Draco's eyes narrowed as he peered back at his friend. "When is my birthday?" He asked quietly, his voice having taken on a soft and menacing edge.

"June fifth," Blaise answered, "why?"

"In sixth year when I was disappearing at night time, where did I tell you I was going?"

"To shag Pansy in the stacks," Blaise mimicked Draco's expression. "Why?"

"I had to make sure it was you," Draco shrugged. His tone suggested that he was disappointed. "I thought maybe someone was impersonating you."

"Mate," Blaise's expression was one of arrogance once more as he gestured towards himself, "no one could impersonate this."

"Sod off," Draco waved at him in a shooing motion.

Blaise tutted but did as he was told, leaving Draco once more with his thoughts. He would have been grateful to be left with his thoughts just twenty minutes ago, but now they were firmly centred on a certain brunette witch and the ludicrous idea Blaise had spouted.

It is ludicrous, he told himself. Utterly, totally, absolutely…ludicrous.