Author's Note: And here's the next chapter! Meant to post last Wednesday so I'd have lots of reviews to read on my birthday Sunday but I didn't have time. Anyway, 2 days late, here it is. Next one will hopefully go up next Wednesday to make up for the delay on this one.

Chapter 6: Salutations

Draco woke up to the smell of a hot breakfast and followed his nose out into the kitchen curiously.

He found Granger standing at the hot box-stove, he reminded himself-cooking bacon and eggs. He remembered then that she had spent the night on his couch and looked over his shoulder at it. The towels he'd covered her up with were folded neatly on the arm of the couch. He thought back to what she had said. Weasel was dead and it Potter was off somewhere feeling sorry for himself. No wonder she was spending all her time helping him. She probably needed the distraction.

Granger's head was still bent over the eggs, her hair forming rather a large helmet around her head. "Nearly done," she said, without looking up. "I thought you might like this a bit better than cereal." She looked up and took in Draco's state of undress. She blinked once and continued with what she was saying, only missing a beat. "I was never a very big fan of cereal myself unless there's fresh fruit chopped up in it."

Only at that point did Draco himself notice that he was standing in front of Granger in naught but his skivvies. He'd been preoccupied with the smell of an appetizing breakfast and hadn't thought twice about getting out of bed. After all, it was his own flat. It was strange to think he'd never lived on his own before, but here he was. He'd dress how he pleased in his own flat. He looked over at the eggs she piled on to the plates. Almost nothing had stuck to the pan and they weren't burnt. "What's your secret?"

This time, Granger didn't miss a beat. "I have lots of secrets. Can't just give them away, now can I?"

The corner of his mouth turned up in an almost smile. "Oh, I don't know. What fun are secrets if you have to keep them all to yourself?"

She moved a few slices of bacon onto one of the plates and handed it to him, preparing the second plate for herself and nodding her head towards the table once. As they settled into their seats and started to eat, he admitted, "The eggs are pretty good. How did you keep them from burning to the bottom?"

"I cooked them on a medium low heat and used lots of butter. You've got to use the spatula to keep them moving or they'll burn to the bottom of the pan. Butter tends to burn pretty easily." She picked a crumb of bacon off the oversized t-shirt she'd slept in under her robe and popped it in her mouth.

He nodded, making a mental note of that. "That was delicious, but I'm going to go spare if I have to stare at these walls all day."

She looked around. "They are rather drab. My flat looked like this when we moved in. It really wouldn't take us that long to paint it, if you'd like."

Draco looked around. Some color might improve the place. "Yes. I think that would improve things, though it's not what I meant. I need to be active. Being cooped up like this… I've hardly been outside in days." He wouldn't say that being cooped up in the flat reminded him of his family's imprisonment at their own manor the year before.

"You could go to the park. I'm sure there'd be a game going on you could join in if you remember your manners."

He glared at her.

She simply stared back. "You know what you're like. Generally there will be people playing football on Saturdays. You could give that a try. There's rugby too, but..." She trailed off, laughing.

"What?"

"Football might be a little intense for you, let alone rugby. I can't imagine you've ever seen a rugby match, but everyone piles on top of each other, grappling, wearing these tight little shorts while they try to get the ball from one end of the field to the other. Broken noses and bruises are pretty typical."

He frowned. "How utterly barbaric."

She snorted. "You say that as if Quidditch doesn't lead to injuries. I was at every match. I know how often Harry fell off his broom."

"I manage to stay on my broom considerably better than Potter. Tell me about football," he demanded.

"Mostly you run back and forward across the field trying to kick a white and black ball into the goal. It's a lot less contact than rugby, but it can still get pretty aggressive."

"Only one goal? And only one ball?"

"Yes, one ball, that only moves when you kick it, and one goal on each end of the field," she smiled, looking down her nose at him, raising one eyebrow. "I'm sure if we flip channels long enough, I can find it on TV for you." She settled herself on the couch and started flipping channels.

Draco sauntered over to stand behind the couch, leaning his elbows on the back of it. As Granger found the channel she wanted, Draco grimaced, watching. Everyone was gathered in a tight knot, moving almost like a giant crab. This was rugby?

"That's called the scrum I think." She continued to explain what she could remember while Draco watched a number of players get battered.

"What about football?" he asked, moving around the couch to come sit next to her.

She started changing the channel again and found a game.

"It doesn't look that difficult," he said nonchalantly.

Granger snorted. "I haven't played since primary school, but I hated it. I don't run. You're welcome to collapse on the field if you'd like. I'll be sitting under a tree with a book."

Draco watched the soccer game for another few minutes and grimaced as one of the players was kicked in the shin by some spiked shoes. Maybe he wouldn't go to the park today. "Today I'll get a job."

She looked at him with a hint of disbelief, but answered reasonably. "You need a contact phone number to put down on applications. We'll have to get you a phone first. I'd let you use mine, but I haven't bothered with one yet. I'll run you through some interview questions before we go. I can think of a few restaurants you'd do well at that might be hiring."

He nodded.

She gave him a rather severe stare. "Just so you're clear, Malfoy, the odds are that you will not have a job by the end of the day. These things take time."

Draco found himself nearly rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Granger. But I am a Malfoy. We usually get what we want."

She laughed a little, and Draco was aware of her arm against his as she got up to go back to her flat. Draco sauntered off to his room to get dressed. He chose nice slacks and a button down shirt. He found his keys and the envelope he kept his Muggle money in and tucked them both in his pockets, going to knock on Granger's door.

She opened the door fully dressed, and with her hair partially tamed. He entered and made himself at home at the kitchen table. She disappeared into the bedroom and came back out with her notebook and a pen. "I came up with some interview questions for you."

He nearly rolled his eyes. "Answering questions isn't that difficult."

She shrugged. "We'll see." She opened her notebook. "Mr. Malfoy, have you ever worked in a restaurant before?"

"No, but I've eaten at many of them."

"Mr. Malfoy, what was the last position you held?"

"I've never had to work."

"Hmm. Do you work well in groups?"

Draco thought for a moment. "I prefer to work on my own. Other people usually slow me down."

Granger licked her finger and turned to the next page. "What is your greatest strength?"

"Apparently it's my charming personality and devilish good looks," he replied, a hint of a smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"What is your greatest weakness?"

"The way my overwhelming confidence makes other people feel inferior?" he asked.

"What interests you about this job?"

"It's the only one I qualify for in the Muggle world..."

She shut her notebook. "If you aren't going to take it seriously, I don't know why I'm bothering. There's a lot you need to do if you want to get a job. If you don't want to, then you can just live off of what the Ministry gives you for the next twelve months." She had a sour expression on her face.

"I was joking, Granger. The list of things I owe you for already is a mile long." He looked at her. If she hadn't stepped in, how long would he have spent waiting to get back into his flat that first day? How long would it have taken him to find some place to buy food? To learn how to cook it? He was deeply in debt to someone he'd only ever treated shabbily. The thought made him uncomfortable. Shabbily was a gross understatement, to say the absolute least. "How's this? My greatest weakness is that I don't know when to shut my mouth."

"An accurate answer maybe."

He leaned forward across the table. "And this job interests me because I love fine cuisine and I'd like to spend as much time as possible helping others enjoy it."

Granger smiled. "You're clearly full of it, but that was excellent. You may be able to pull this off after all. I told you that you were good at this when you wanted to be." The smile stayed on her face. "If you can keep that up, you'll do well on tips."

Draco and Granger spent some time going over questions before going out looking for a mobile phone store. Granger found one at last and pulled him into it. After an hour of fussing around the store, they each emerged with a small rectangular object. It had about a dozen buttons and a little black and white screen. Granger fiddled with both devices before handing him his.

"I programmed my number in there in case you get into any sort of emergency. You'll have to budget to pay for the service on this every month. It won't work very well on the underground-or probably at all-because it won't have a signal, but it should work pretty well the rest of the time," she explained. "You'll want to learn your number by heart so you can give it out when you need to at the interviews."

"I've already got it memorized."

She looked surprised. "But I only told it to you once."

He shrugged slightly. "I gathered it was rather an important sequence so I learned it."

Granger's face took on a mildly impressed expression. Then he could have sworn she looked a bit pleased. "Well, we can go around to a few restaurants if you'd like and pick up applications. A few of the nicer restaurants are open for lunch too, so they should be open now. A lot of the others only open for dinner."

By the time they had gathered applications for Draco from half a dozen restaurants, the sky was getting dark and his legs were starting to feel their walk-particularly all the times they went up and down the stairs getting off the underground. This was unacceptable. He couldn't be getting out of shape so quickly. He'd have to start running regularly.

They picked up a couple of ready to heat meals from Sainsbury's as they made their way back to Granger's flat and she popped them in the oven. They sat at the table, looking over his applications.

Draco thought about asking for something to drink and then thought better of it. He got up and got it himself. Granger was concentrating pretty intently on the forms and didn't look as though she'd notice him asking for anything unless he took the forms away. He came back to the table with two glasses of water and she took hers without comment, just smiling a little.

"I should probably start filling these out," he said, looking moodily at the dozens of pages in front of him. "Do you have a quill?"

She chuckled. "I do, but a quill and ink will bleed through thin paper like this in a second. I'll get you a pen instead. It dries pretty much instantly." She pushed away from the table and went into the kitchen to check on dinner. It still needed a few more minutes, so she came out with a pen and some spare paper. "You're going to want to practice a bit."

Draco scoffed. He'd been writing for most of his life. There was no reason to think that he'd have any difficulty using Muggle writing implements. After ignoring the paper she'd brought and writing his name on the top line of the first application he'd gotten, he winced. It didn't look pretty. He frowned. He had always considered his writing beautiful...in a strong, masculine sort of way. What had gone wrong? "This pen is broken."

"It's not broken. It's just shaped differently than a quill. You need to practice. I went through the same thing when I first started writing with quills on parchment. I practiced all that summer after I got my Hogwarts letter," she assured him. Granger pushed the extra paper she'd brought towards him.

Growling a bit at this additional task, Draco found himself penning his name and other information onto his practice sheet. He looked up after a moment and saw Granger fighting an amused expression, though she didn't seem to be fighting terribly hard. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She shrugged and smiled a little. "Can you blame me? I had to totally adapt myself to the wizarding world years ago. It's a little nice to get to see this go in reverse."

He declined to comment and she went to get dinner out of the oven and bring it to the table. They ate while looking over the paperwork.

"You can use me as a reference if you'd like. They'll take personal references if you don't have any employment history," she offered.

He nodded, glancing down at the reference section and adding her name. "What's our address here? No one told me the name when I moved in."

She glanced at where he was filling in his contact information. "Muggles don't generally name their properties. The streets have names and every house is assigned a number. We live on 123 Mockingbird Lane. Your flat is #301 and mine is #302."

"Why?"

She snorted softly. "There are a lot of Muggles and we all live packed pretty close together. Road names and numbers make it easier to find where you want to go. Any letters sent through the Muggle post have to have your address on it so the post man can bring them to the right place."

The two of them spent a while working on his first application and wishing he'd gotten an extra copy. They filled out what information they could. He didn't have any sort of Muggle identification though, and that'd be problematic, even if he found somewhere willing to hire him despite not having any work history.

Draco had left the table and was perusing one of the bookcases while Granger sat and chewed on the end of her pen. They were just about ready to call it a night and put the paperwork aside until morning. He chose a couple of books almost at random from the shelf to borrow. Reading might a nice alternative to the television.

Granger gathered up the paperwork for all of his applications, having paper-clipped the appropriate pages together.

He looked back at where she was at the table and raised the books he'd picked up in his hand. "These okay?"

"Sure. You're welcome to borrow any of them. I used to read quite a bit of fiction. Haven't read much of it in ages." She got up and handed him his applications as he headed for the door. "I have a few errands to run tomorrow, so I won't be around during the day, but if you get locked out or anything, you've got my number. Do you remember how to work your mobile?"

"The green button is for talking, your number is saved under your name. I've got it, Granger. I'll be fine."

"And?" she prompted.

"And..." He tried to think. What else had she babbled on about after they left the mobile store? "Don't drop it in water."

"Well, yes, that. And that charger that came with the phone gets plugged into the wall socket. You put one end into the wall, and the other end into the phone. You'll need to charge it every few days probably," she reminded him, opening the door.

"Anything else?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Just one more thing. In all seriousness, Malfoy, I have to admit, I'm impressed."

Draco looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because. Your whole world was turned upside down, and in a manner of days you moved out of the woe-is-me self-pity you were in and you've started doing something to adapt and deal with your situation. That's huge."

He tried to keep his face neutral, but he had a feeling he still looked rather embarrassed and a little pleased. He nodded once. "Thanks, Granger. That means..." He wasn't good at this sort of thing. "That means a lot coming from someone who knows how hard it is to adapt to a new lifestyle. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Malfoy." He stepped out and she closed the door behind him. It was only about an hour later that Hermione heard the sound of wings and looked up from the potions book she was reviewing to see Athena returning. She smiled and greeted the bird fondly, gently untying the letter from her leg and letting her nip her finger before flying off to the water bowl.

Hermione touched the envelope, turning it over in her hand. Her name was printed there in glinting ink, in flowing letters on a very creamy high quality stationary. There was no doubt in her mind who this letter was from. She stood by the open window, feeling the breeze against her neck as she used her nail to open the letter. She took out the first page and found a second envelope inside addressed to Malfoy. She hadn't expected any less.

August 4, 1998

Miss Granger,

You have no idea what a weight you've taken off my mind by writing to me. I had heard that Potter had vouched for leniency for Draco and myself, but I was unsure as to what the results would be. Draco can be extremely reluctant to take any sort of aid. I'm grateful that you have a good enough heart to offer to help him, and twice as grateful that he has the wisdom to accept. He always was a stubborn child. I sometimes wonder if Lucius and I indulged him too much. If we did, I am certain he is learning that the rest of the world won't be quite as complaisant towards him.

I do not know what possessed you to help him through this time, but thank you, Miss Granger. It doesn't bear thinking of where he might be without you right now. I know this is a difficult time for you as well. I am deeply sorry to hear about the Weasley boy. I read about it in the papers. You have my deepest condolences. I do know what it's like to lose someone you love. If there is anything at all I can do for you, please tell me and I will do what I can. I owe you more than I can repay.

This morning I will send a letter of introduction to Damocles Belby. Also ask for letters from Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, and Nargulus Mulpepper who owns the larger Apothecary on Diagon Alley. Belby doesn't get along with the proprietors of Slug and Jiggers next door, but he and Mulpepper have been friends for ages. Mulpepper won't give you a letter unless you prove your worth to him. Visit the apothecary often, asking for rare ingredients. If you know anyone who can supply rare ingredients to him, offer them as a connection. Be sure to mention your desire to do advanced potions work and offer to volunteer in his shop. Don't come on too strong; insinuate yourself with him over a matter of a few months, though you could conceivably find yourself apprenticed to Belby before then. Belby can be unpredictable at times. I'm not sure whether your unique status will impress him or make him demand more of you. I've enclosed a letter here for Draco and I'd be much obliged if you would give it to him. I think it's quite cruel that the Ministry would try to make him survive this year without me after everything we've been through, and after all he must be grappling with now. As he suggested in your last letter, I do assure you both that I am doing well in France. I have reconnected with an old friend or two and am making many new acquaintances. All the same, I long to be back at the Manor again and know with my own eyes that my son is safe and well.

With you in spirit,

Narcissa Malfoy

Hermione processed the contents of the letter, reading it over a second time. She felt a pang in her chest thinking about Ron. It had been a little difficult to see Malfoy in Ron's old clothes. She was grateful that he'd gone out and bought his own garments and wouldn't be adopting Ron's whole wardrobe. Admittedly, looking at it all in her closet whenever she got dressed in the morning wasn't much better-it was part of why she hadn't been able to bring herself to get dressed yesterday. For the dozenth time, she told herself she should donate the clothes to someone who needed them, and for the dozenth time she found herself unwilling to let them go, as if it was losing another another part of him.

Malfoy's company might not always be polite, but at least it was a distraction from everything else. As much as she knew the Weasleys would be happy to see her, she wasn't really ready to see them right now. Not yet. To lose Fred had been bad enough, and Tonks, and Lupin, and everyone...but Ron? How was she supposed to move on with such a big piece of her missing? Harry wasn't handling it well, as expected. He'd shut her out, as well as everyone else. She suspected he was at Grimmauld Place, but she didn't know. A part of her was sure he'd never set foot there again, but another part was certain that would make it the perfect escape hole for him, and unplottable to boot.

She was alone.

She supposed she did have Malfoy for company, for the time being. Eventually he'd learn to take care of himself and stop relying on her. Maybe by then, she'd have her own life back in order. She really was impressed with how well he was handling all of these changes. It was a lot to take on at once, but he was making it through. She would have expected another week at least of sulking before he started being productive. Well, he was doing well, and she'd take care of a few things in the morning. In the meantime, she ought to give him his mother's letter. She picked up her things and hesitated just outside his door. It was late. Should she wait? Sod it. If she were in his shoes, she'd want a letter from her mother as soon as possible. She'd love a letter from her mother. Her breath hitched at that thought as she reminded herself that Wendell and Monica Wilkins had no daughter.

She rapped on the door and waited for it to open.

Malfoy opened the door, drawling even before it was open all the way. "Yes, Granger?"

"Athena came back a little while ago. Your mother sent a letter for you. I'm going to bed now, I need to be up early, but you can slip your reply letter under my door if you'd like and I'll send it tomorrow." She handed him his letter. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

He took the letter from her and nodded once. "Goodnight, Granger." He watched as she retreated to her flat and then he slowly closed his door. He crossed the room to the kitchen table and settled down at the table to read the letter from his mother. There was his name on the outside, written in the elegant handwriting he recognized so well. Before he could stop himself, he found he was tracing the letters with one finger.

He opened the envelope and unfolded it carefully, beginning to read.

To My Darling Draco,

I'm sure you'll be thrilled to know that I am acquiring quite a large and varied circle of acquaintances here. The weather is lovely, and I've joined a lovely association. Did you know that France is home to an elite group of female Pixie Keepers? It's quite pleasant to sit in the garden and watch the hives of pixies fluttering about. It's a shame that fall is coming on. I'd have like to spend some time at the seaside, but, no matter.

I'm proud of you. I know you're being strong. Don't waste this opportunity to become the better person that I know you are. You and I are both getting a clean start right now. We need to use it carefully.

Your Mother

Draco cocked an eyebrow and reread his letter. His mother was tending pixies? They were cultivated sometimes for the dust from their wings, but…well, he supposed she must find something now to fill the hours.