Author's Note: Next chapter is here! Thanks to everybody for your support. This week has been particularly long…and seeing the reviews flooding into my inbox seriously helped brighten my mood. This one covers quite a bit more ground than the others, but things will slow down a bit again in the next one.

Chapter 9: Searching

Hermione had asked for letters of recommendation from McGonagall, and Slughorn, as suggested by Narcissa. She hadn't approached Mulpepper yet. She found herself reluctant to go near the magical world right now—she'd even canceled the meeting she was supposed to have had with McGonagall on Monday. It was ridiculous. She belonged in the magical world. It was the only place she truly felt at home.

But she imagined that her first trip into Diagon Alley would result in Rita Skeeter descending on her, asking how she felt about Ron's death, and accusing her of chasing away Harry. Knowing Skeeter, she'd follow up with speculation on who Hermione might turn to to ease her bleeding heart.

No, Hermione was in no mood to see anyone from the wizarding world.

She looked at McGonagall's letter for the third or fourth time that morning. It had arrived days ago after she canceled her meeting, and she hadn't responded yet.

Ms. Granger,

Of course I'd be willing to recommend you to Damocles Belby as an Apprentice. I admire your ambition to continue to improve equality for all in the wizarding world. I'm sure Remus Lupin would have appreciated your efforts.

I did teach Mr. Belby myself some many years ago. I can tell you that he is a difficult man to work with, brilliant, but given to erratic mood swings and changing from one task to the next.

If you find that you do not wish to pursue this course of study with him, there will always be a place for you at Hogwarts. I would welcome you to my staff, or back as a student to complete your final year of courses if you so choose. The beginning of term is rapidly approaching. I would be pleased to have you by my side if you choose to make Hogwarts your home again.

I am deeply sorry for your loss. If there is anything at all that you need, you know where to find me.

Minerva McGonagall

Looking at the spacing of the letter, Hermione knew that the last line from McGonagall, had been added later, squeezed between the invitation and the Headmistress's signature. She was sure that the words were sincerely meant. Knowing the professor as well as she did, she could imagine McGonagall writing the letter and debating whether or not to mention Ron, and deciding at the last minute that she had to say something.

She folded the letter back up again and tucked it in the envelope it had arrived in, still making no response. Hogwarts had become as much home to her over the years as the house she grew up in; in many ways, it was more so. But she couldn't go back there right now anymore than she could face the Weasleys. There were too many memories. Too many expectations.

Knowing Mrs. Weasley, she would probably expect Hermione to be struggling with the whole situation even more than she was and would be alarmed that she was fending for herself as well as she was. She could just see Mrs. Weasley deciding it was time to bundle her off to the Burrow and stuff her with 6 meals a day and constant supervision. Or maybe not. Molly had lost both Ron and Fred in such a few short months. Maybe she had no pain or worry to spare for Hermione.

Mr. Weasley probably knew she could take care of herself. In some ways, Mr. Weasley had always seemed like the more realistic of the pair in that sense, though she knew that they both shone their brightest when acting as a team.

She thought of George then. There might be one place in the wizarding world she'd be willing to go, if she could get there without attracting any undo attention. George might understand her right now. But after what he'd been through—was he even still in the shop? Had he given up? She couldn't go to the Burrow.

Sighing, she turned to the other envelope on the table and opened it. Thank Merlin she could order potions ingredients by Owl. She was trying to make sure she adhered to the practical side of her studies as well as the text side. Sooner or later, she'd probably have to make a proper run to the Apothecary. But not yet.

She hadn't heard from Malfoy in a whole two days. He was starting to learn his way around the Muggle world on his own. Good. If he could do that, then she could stop worrying about him. Today was the fourteenth day of his year without magic.

Draco returned from his run sweaty and tired. It felt good…in an agonizing way. There was no reason to lose his toned physique just because he couldn't ride his broomstick for a few months…a year. 11 months and 2 weeks. He'd made it to the two week mark with good behavior. The Ministry was going to have to hold up their end of the bargain about getting him some Muggle identification. Not that any of the restaurants he had applied to had called him.

He'd asked Granger if maybe his phone wasn't working, but she'd responded by using her own to call him and prove that it was. She told him he'd just have to be patient—it was a difficult job market and he didn't have any experience.

How was he supposed to get any experience if no one would hire him to begin with? It wasn't fair.

He stripped off his clothes and turned the shower water on, waiting for it to heat up before getting in. One of the bright sides to going out and exercising this week was that it was an entirely free activity. He was becoming rapidly aware of his dwindling funds. But a man had to have some comforts, didn't he? A bottle of wine for instance. Some pampering and grooming wouldn't hurt either, but he'd gotten the impression from Hermione that most of the services he'd like would be out of his price range.

Still, any activity that kept him busy for now and didn't cause him to spend money was a good idea. He lathered the shampoo in his hair. It wasn't quite as good as the potion he was used to using, but it wasn't bad.

Draco walked alongside Granger in companionable silence. His funds were extremely low and he still had more than a week until the new month started and the Ministry gave him his next allotment of allowance. Still, he did have something else: a Muggle ID card, issued to him by the Ministry. If anyone ever was willing to hire him, the Ministry had now fabricated an identification for him. He did wish the picture of him didn't look quite so terrible. He was convinced that if it was a moving picture it would have blossomed into a charming face.

In the meantime, there was probably going to be very little wine and quite a few peanut butter sandwiches in his future. For today though, he was taking his new card down to the library. Free books and videos. It was a strange feeling, suddenly having to worry about money. He never had before.

As they entered the library, Draco noticed a twitch of a smile on Granger's lips. "What?"

She just shrugged. She couldn't explain that the library was the one place where silence didn't seem out of place. It wrapped around her like a blanket—the smell of books, the quiet sounds of people turning pages or getting things down from the shelves. "I've not been in this library much since moving to our building, but if you'll just follow the signs at the top of the shelves, you should be able to find the genres you like." She already knew where she was headed. "Meet back at the desk here in…an hour?"

Draco nodded and watched her head off to her chosen section. He gave a wide berth to the brightly colored children's section where a group of small children were gathered on a rug while someone read to them. He glanced at all of the section headings, trying to decide whether this was a fiction or nonfiction sort of outing. Maybe both. Knowledge could give you the edge you needed. Draco needed whatever edge he could at the moment to get him through his year amongst Muggles. He browsed the nonfiction section first, wondering what would be useful. There were books about cars. People. The history of Muggle Britain. There was so much that he didn't know. He shuddered. It would take a lifetime to fill in the gaps in his knowledge—and the thought of spending a lifetime needing that knowledge was an unbearable prospect. It was only 11 months and a bit. He could manage. He would. He must.

He tried to choose things that looked useful and not too boring, and then started strolling in the fiction direction. On the way, he encountered something that was most definitely not a book.

On a table sat a glass fronted box—not entirely unlike the television in Draco's flat—along with a rectangular board with letters on it, a small corded round thing, and a tall metal box on the floor. There was a man seated in front of it and text moved across the screen. He stared for a moment, wondering what he was seeing.

"Oh, there you are," Hermione said quietly, approaching him with her arms laden with books.

"What is that?" Draco asked, thrusting his chin out towards the machine and the man.

Hermione frowned, looking at it. "That's a computer. I haven't really spent much time on one, though my parents did put one in their office at work for doing the books and things."

"What does it do?"

"Well," Hermione said, trying to decide how to explain it in a way that would make sense to Malfoy. "The monitor there shows images, rather like the television in your flat, but it's all controlled from that tower on the floor. The keyboard and mouse on the desk let you control and input information. You can write documents on it, and send letters to people from one machine to another. It's all fairly new. I haven't used them much. I didn't realize the library here had one."

Draco watched the man intently doing things with the keyboard and typing something on the screen. He didn't seem like he was going to leave any time soon, but he rather wanted a go at it.

"We can come back and check it out another time," Hermione said, shifting her armload of books. "For now, we ought to get you set up with a library card.

The blond was certain that he'd never met anyone who moved as slowly as the librarian as she took a long look at his ID card and proceeded to fill out the paperwork to issue him a library card. She then proceeded to check out the stack of books he'd brought over. "I can't imagine getting to being your age, young man, and never having had a library card before. What are they teaching young people these days?" she said in a creaky voice, shaking her head.

Granger slid her books across the counter and withdrew her own library card, cutting in rather quickly. "He grew up in rather a rural neighborhood I'm afraid. I'd like these please."

The librarian began checking Hermione's books out to her at the pace of molasses moving in winter, but eventually they were both out the door with their books in hand.

The sun had come out from behind the clouds while they were inside and they walked back to their flats at a leisurely pace, books bundled in their arms. Draco hadn't seen as much of Hermione in the past week as he had the first week he found himself without magic. He wondered how she was getting on. He had fewer questions about keeping himself fed and clothed in the Muggle world now, and it had probably been a week since she'd last knocked on his door at a strange hour with a lame excuse to keep her from being alone with her thoughts. They did still share some meals together. And when he did see her, she seemed to be managing to dress herself now. He took a breath and shifted the books in his arms. He could rather guess how she'd spent that time. "How's your studying? Do you need help?"

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "I appreciate the offer, Malfoy, but I imagine making potions would be a violation of your parole. Besides, you didn't exactly manage much more of seventh year than I did."

He snorted. "It was a bit…interrupted. But Severus Snape was my godfather and I was encouraged to make the things that buying would lead to too many questions about. I do have some skills."

"Oh really?"

"I can talk you through any of them that you're having trouble with. I won't touch a single ingredient."

"I'll think about it."

"Have you heard anything from Belby yet?"

She shook her head and the hint of a smile that had been on her face vanished entirely. "Nothing since my initial request to him. I know McGonagall and Slughorn both sent him letters on my behalf."

Draco racked his brain, trying to remember what he could of Belby. He was vaguely aware of him as a family acquaintance who his parents had had little luck manipulating as his responses were so varied. "He may be testing you to see if you're going to try and push him into teaching you, which, depending on his mood, he may want you to push him, or he may find it disrespectful and not take you on. You're famously clever, which he could decide makes you unteachable because you already think you know everything, or might make you a great student because you want to learn everything. Or he may have lost or forgotten your application. There's really no way to know."

"Is he really that unpredictable?" she asked.

"Yes," he said simply. "In the war, he never declared for the Dark Lord or for the Light. He went into hiding very successfully and then came out again as though nothing had happened."

Granger shook her head with a determined look that Draco caught out of the corner of his eye. "I don't understand how anyone could just not take a side when the whole future of the world was at stake. Even if someone takes the wrong side…then at least you're standing for something, having a say in your future." She glanced at him.

"Well, I understand why some people might sit it out," he said quietly. "If I'd had then sense to take enough of a stand to do that much, maybe I wouldn't be where I am now."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, but she made her tone brisk. "The only place for either of us to go from here is forward. The past is the past, and we've just got to keep moving on and figuring out how to make the future better than the past was."

He shook his head. That was easier said than done. "Let's get these home. I don't suppose you'd make them weightless for him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm carrying mine properly, you can carry yours. Besides, a little exercise is good for you."

"I'm getting plenty of exercise. Exercising is free. It's everything else that costs money," he grumbled.

Her mouth twitched.

"What?"

"I'm just imagining Ron's face at the prospect of you trying to live on a budget." Her breath caught in her throat a little. Ron would not be at the flat when she got home. She would not be able to recount this conversation to him.

The next words out of Malfoy's mouth surprised her.

"You should try to find Potter," he said quietly.

Hermione nearly stopped walking and had to force her feet to keep going. "I can't."

"You've tried to find him?"

She took a breath, and then another one before she found the words, not looking at him. "I can't take care of him right now. If I find him before he's ready to come out…he's going to need me to be strong enough to pull him out of things. I've done it for so long. I just can't right now. It takes everything I've got to do what I'm already doing." She looked around and realized their building was only another block ahead. She set her jaw. She could hold herself together for another few minutes.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? I can't just go find him because I need him. If I'm going to go pull him out of his solitude, I should be able to offer something. I just don't have anything to offer right now." She wrapped her arms more tightly around the books she was carrying.

Draco shook his head. "No wonder you've always seemed stressed and exhausted. You give until you don't have anything left. You've got to learn to take sometimes."

There was no response for that. They made it the last few yards and up the stairs to their building, and up the next couple of flights to the third floor. They simply nodded to one another and didn't say anything as they went to their respective flats. With the door shut behind her, Hermione said the words she hadn't been able to find downstairs. "Sometimes there's no one to take support from, even if you're willing to accept it." She swallowed and set her books down, choosing one from the pile and trying to lose herself in it.

Even if people weren't always willing to take her in, books would never hesitate. She could open one up to any page and immediately be swallowed by another world, just waiting for her.