Tuesday, May 14th, 2003.

Hermione had decided to ignore the pain that had risen in her chest at Harry's words. It had felt so unfair and unthoughtful that she hadn't recognised him. She'd managed by staying at work way past midnight, the memory of her last hangover too vivid for her to try to forget that way again.

When she woke up that morning she couldn't help but replay the argument in her head though. He'd called her a coward. He'd said she'd abandoned Ron. When Harry had been the one abandoning her and Ron the one being inconsiderate and pushing.

She had done nothing wrong but put an end to her own suffering. Right, she had done nothing wrong. She'd repeated those words to herself so much over the last few months that they didn't mean anything any more. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was the offending one after all.

But then, having Malfoy take her defence proved that Harry's opinion was biased by his friendship with Ron. If the ferret had felt like he had to say something, it definitely meant that Harry's behaviour had lacked any sense of moral.

Or it meant that she was completely crazy, the ferret hated Harry so much it could have been the right occasion for him to simply insult him. Maybe Harry was right and Malfoy petty.

No, Malfoy was ... well, maybe normal wasn't the most appropriate term, say he was sensible. Even that was odd. But he was and his company records only proved so. Whereas, he looked more indifferent and exhausted than anything else, he still had seemed shocked at Harry's words. His own had sounded outraged and revolted when they usually were sneering and sarcastic.

And he'd apologised. Words she had had trouble to link with his moving mouth. Hence why she'd forgiven him right away. Draco Malfoy had apologised to her, defended her, and sided with her. He'd even laughed with her. It was ... She had no word for that.

Hanging out with Astoria was something, Malfoy, something else entirely.

Hermione realised she'd turned the thoughts over and over in her head, until she'd reached the Ministry, and that she was nowhere near less confused. The atrium was crowded, she was late. Late but thankful, the noise made her snap out of her trance, and pushed the thoughts aside.

Until she reached Tracey's desk evidently. The witch arboured an apologetic frown that was not a good sign.

She had a visitor. In her office. The way to her door had never felt this long before.

His broad shoulders were tensed, very much like when he was about to go on auror's business for a few days. His red hair shone as he was twiddling with something on the desk, the scars on his forearm jiggling under his rolled up sleeve.

She sighed worriedly, she'd made too many scenes in the Ministry already. Kingsley had certainly heard, and if it happened twice in a row she might get in trouble.

"Ron?" He turned around, jumping. His freckled face grew sombre the instant he laid his sharp blue eyes on her, and his brows furrowed until they almost touched. Great, he was angry.

He shoved something to her then, and waited, crossing his arms above his chest. He was growing redder and redder and the vein on his temple was pounding. Hermione swallowed back her own annoyance, she couldn't loose her temper this early. She took a look at the envelope he'd ruthlessly given her but didn't dare ask him. She opened it.

It contained a check.

"Here, wish granted. I'm out of your life now." He spat. He didn't move, his glare the more intense and she was at a loss of words. What was she supposed to say? She felt a sudden stiffness grip the back of her neck and clenched her teeth. She didn't know if she felt more helpless or angry. Both feelings mingled and tangled in her jaw until she felt so tense she could break her teeth.

"You can go enjoy your freedom with ex death-eaters all you want now." He hissed and her mouth released and opened right away:

"How dare you …"

"No! You don't get to be angry about this Hermione. You left me." He pointed an accusing finger at her chest and angry words tickled her tongue:

"I …"

"NO! I don't want to hear another of your excuses!"

"Excuses?"

"Yes, you coward! Excuses!"

"How dare you …" She boiled so hard that the words leaving her mouth sounded jerky and low. She had drown her wand unconsciously and clenched the wood so firmly she felt her knuckles crack.

"You gave up!" He accused, his face crimson and it was the drop that made her forget about troubles, but also revived too many things in her:

"No I didn't! I can't bear children you wanker! When is that going to enter your sodding skull?!"

"LIES! All lies! YOU NEVER WANTED CHILDREN WITH ME!" Her stomach dropped.

"I …" She was incapable of answering that. He was beyond delusional. But also right somehow.

"See? A coward. A liar. A traitor. Enjoy your pathetic little life now. Alone."

Draco had come to the decision that whatever had happened to Granger and the weasel, it shouldn't bother him that much. Surely spending an evening wondering AND waking up still replaying the scene in his head wasn't healthy. Three fucking what anyway?

Of course now he couldn't ask her, considerate idiot as he'd been saying he hadn't heard anything. Though she knew he had, the implicit promise not to say a word had still left his bloody mouth.

He had even apologised. Oh Blaise was going to be infuriating when he'd learn.

As if not knowing exactly what he'd promised not to tell was, wasn't irritating enough. Though he might learn some more that morning. His meeting was the next day and he had to go to the ministry right now.

Late in his work, or so it was the excuse he used for himself, he apparated to the Ministry instead of taking his usual morning walk. In the lift though, he wondered if it was really simple curiosity that was scratching his forehead. He had a flash of Granger's teary face when he called Law Enforcement in the lift, that remained persistent until he reached the floor.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks at the doors. Greengrass was there, her back to him, apparently talking with Davis.

"Really? We agreed that she would show me the archives room before doing anything else."

"It was urgent. She asked me to show you around."

"Oh alright." They didn't even spot him and Davis led Greengrass next door. Draco followed, as quietly as possible. There was a silence and then Greengrass sighed:

"She's in there right?"

"Err …"

"What happened?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell." Davis whispered.

"What happened Tracey?" Stressed Greengrass as someone apparently rummaged through a drawer.

"I …"

"Look, just tell me if she's alright."

"Err …"

"Who?" Greengrass insisted. Draco was at the door now. Davis whispered again, he had to prick his ears:

"Ouch all right no need to be violent! Weasley came around this morning and then she locked herself in there, told me to say she had a meeting." What the hell had the weasel wanted to do with Granger? Draco bet the stupid wanker had come to insult her too.

"Weasley again? What did he want?" Greengrass wasn't bothering to keep her voice low.

"I don't know. I didn't hear much."

"What did you hear?"

"Something about her not wanting children with him. Look, they didn't make a scene or anything, he only stayed a few minutes." Children? Draco shrugged, not wanting to procreate with him had been a wise decision. He frowned then, not marrying him in the first place would have been wiser.

"Ah. You sure you don't know why?"

"No … but Potter was there Yesterday …" Davis cut herself, finally spotting Draco under her goggles. She was definitely not a pretty witch. Greengrass turned around and shot him a death glare that could rival his mother's. He'd been right, Granger and she talked. But apparently she hadn't seen Granger since the last day.

"Malfoy."

"Here, ask him, he was there." Davis then practically ran out the room, leaving them alone.

Alone. Right, nothing new there.

Coward. No fucking way. If nothing, he was the denying stupid coward blaming his ex-wife for suffering and not shutting her mouth about it any more.

Liar. She'd never lied to him. She'd told him exactly what the healers had said. Word for word. The fact he never believed her and had kept pushing only made him delusional. As for anything else, he'd known she'd wanted to build a career. He'd known and had still insisted until she'd compromised.

Traitor. Of course Harry had told him about Malfoy and probably Zabini too. Well, his reaction wasn't surprising. She didn't really care, she had no one left to betray anyway. Plus, the past was the past, old grudges were stupid, and at least Malfoy and Zabini had taken her side.

Though, they didn't know why there was a conflict in the first place. She doubted Malfoy had understood what he'd heard with Harry.

No one understood right now. Alone. The only one that had ever understood her had passed away a year prior, and Hermione had been too in love to listen to her back then. This time the memory gripped her heart, and she could try reading the scroll in front of her all she wanted, it didn't fade. She always came to Hermione's office on Tuesdays. She only sat once the chair was rightly settled in front of her.

"I guess we are done for today then Miss Granger. I will see myself out as usual, but if you don't mind I would like to ask you something before I do." The old witch had both her hands folded on her lap, resting neatly atop a beige designer skirt. Her pearls jiggled around her neck as she cocked her head to a side to consider Hermione's reaction attentively. Before she could even think of a proper answer, Mrs Zabini gave her the first smile Hermione had ever witnessed from her. Her face warmed up instantly and she looked so motherly that Hermione had to take in a deep breath, knowing what was to come.

"It is rather personal. I won't take it wrong if you wish not to answer." She added, probably seeing that Hermione wasn't feeling like discussing anything else other than work.

"I guessed so. You can proceed." The elder witch stared at her a moment, her dark orbs usually severe, now something close to knowing, before asking:

"Was it you first miscarriage?" Hermione felt her stomach drop as a strong batch of tears swelled up under her eyes. She found herself at a loss of words. How had she known? Nobody knew! Not even Harry yet! She'd been expecting the elder witch to ask if everything was all right, seeing that Hermione wasn't as put together that day as she usually was, but not that.

"I guess it was. The bad feeling goes away after a while I promise." She said, extending a hand to Hermione's clenched fingers. The touch itself was comforting. The tears finally escaped her eyes, she couldn't hold them any longer. This sinking grief was indeed the worst feeling she'd ever felt and, seeing the understanding and sincere compassion in Mrs Zabini's eyes was immensely more comforting than Ron's "It's okay, we'll try again."

"Sometimes talking about it helps."

"I … I can't …"

"I understand. I've lived through two before having my son. But I had no choice but to keep trying, dear. You should know that sometimes, it's not for the best to keep pushing yourself. Especially when you're only doing it for someone else."

"How …"

"I just know, darling." She patted her hands before continuing. "I can see that your priority lays here, doing what you're doing in those offices. You should never set yourself back for the others. You are such a talented and skilled witch. And so young! Try and keep true to yourself. At least until you're ready to do otherwise."

It was a wise, wise woman the world had lost. If only she'd listened to her. It would have saved them a lot of pain. As if they hadn't both suffered enough during the war.

She shouldn't have complied for him. At least if they'd broken up, they would have without carrying the weight of loss on their shoulders. Every time Hermione thought about it, or saw a pregnant woman in the street, she felt like screaming. Ron had to feel the same.

Too bad he only acknowledged his own pain, and had never considered hers. Too bad she'd loved him so much she'd tried to give him the family he wanted, when she'd only wanted to build herself a career before considering anything like that.

Too bad he'd never believed the healers and was delusional. Death had always done that to him, he was as broken as her body.

If he needed to blame her to cope, then she'd taken the right decision divorcing him.

It'd been too much, for too long. But it didn't ease her pain however.

"You didn't hear anything?"

"No, I just told you." Draco repeated for the fourth time. If she asked again, he could very well burst into flames.

"I don't believe you."

"I … Oh fuck Greengrass! I heard but I told her I wouldn't tell."

"Oh. Okay then." Draco sighed, she seemed to be finished interrogating him. "Why did you take her side?" Or not.

"Because. Look, if you keep annoying me, I'm going to body-bind you and tuck you in one of those drawers." She was utterly unimpressed and sported a knowing smile Draco wanted to slap off her face, but she started to work and remained silent. Which was a relief. Though, his thoughts took the upper hand on his working. He'd heard some things that helped him understand what was happening.

It didn't need a genius to link the weasel's visit with Potter's. I didn't need a genius either to see that the last visit had affected her to the point of locking herself in her office again. Which had only happened a couple of times according to Greengrass herself.
More precisely three times certainly.

What had the weasel said that could be worse than what Potter had? Surely he'd blamed her for everything wrong in his life. The git was that stupid. Davis had said something about children.

Right, good thing on Granger's part. Imagine a ginger bushy-haired prat? Draco shuddered.

Wait, children? Why would he argue with her about children when they were divorced? Clearly the argument with Potter hadn't been about …

Three times and he kept pushing me!

No! It couldn't be. Right, Draco was probably working his head up.

"Malfoy?" Draco jumped so hard he had trouble maintaining a straight face afterwards. Greengrass was looking at him and sighed exasperatedly: "Did you even listen?"

She knew the answer, he'd jumped. He rolled his eyes, she continued: "You insulted Potter?" Draco gave up then, sighing exasperatedly:

"He made her cry."

"Oh. Was it your way to apologise for being a complete git the other night?"

"No. I apologised for that."

"Really?" Incredulity was ugly on her.

"Yes and she forgave me. End of the discussion."

"Good." She paused and then watched him attentively before saying: "She's locked up in there."

"And?" Her eyebrows rose to her hair line, but she didn't say anything for a moment. "Worried?" He asked eventually.

"Well, if there's someone who doesn't need worry it's her but … I have a gut feeling."

Draco nodded. He had one too. And it wasn't a good one. Though there was nothing he could do about it. And why would he? He'd done enough already.

"I guess I'll see her tomorrow." Concluded Greengrass, lowering her frown to whatever she was working on. The words escaped Draco's mouth:

"And if you don't?"

"Then I'll go take care of the two wankers myself." She said. Draco didn't doubt her. She was deadly serious and would probably scare the shit out of them. Maybe he should take a job at the Ministry. Knowing Greengrass' revengeful character it would certainly be entertaining to watch her lecture the shit out of the head auror. Far more interesting than going back to his company offices and bare with yet another boring meeting with his father's old associates.

That evening, Hermione ignored the memories of the last weekend and gave up. She went to Hog's head after work.

With the very precise goal to waste her time and earn a proper headache. She hoped to numb her memories of the past two days too. Alcohol had a backfiring way to relieve one's aches though. But it felt worth it right then.

Hermione needed to silence her brain for the night. Ron's visit had revived a full batch of memories she had no wish to dig out of the concealed corner of her brain she'd shoved them into. Mrs Zabini's had been enough. Plus, she could afford going to work a bit later the next day, she'd worked her arse off since last Friday. If arguing with ex friends had one good side, it was to make her work until she couldn't feel her eyes.

Aberforth didn't comment. He didn't refuse her the bottle of firewhiskey she asked either.

Draco apparated back to the Manor that evening, an irritating uneasy feeling poking a side of his brain repeatedly. He wondered. What in hell had happened to her?

Had she really ... ? He couldn't even formulate the thought. Though it was the only thing he could think of that made sense.

He should have broken Potter's jaw. That self righteous bastard! Forcing her to say it ... Blaming and calling her a coward! Who the hell did he think he was? With his weaslette of a wife and his little brat in his perfect hero like life!

How could he blame her for loosing hers?

Shit. How unfair was that?

The woman had been bullied all her school years - and he was mostly responsible for that - had had to obliviate her parents during a war she'd fought on the front row, had been tortured - right under his bloody nose too - had had her entire life plastered on gossip papers ever since and now what?

She'd had three miscarriages?

How bad someone's life could be?

His looked like vacation next to hers. Having to bear with his father's binding contract seemed ludicrously easy next to that. How she managed to keep working her mind off, to lead a whole department of the Ministry, to stay polite with journalists and to chair trials, when only drinking a bit from time to time, he had no idea. He even drank for breakfast sometimes.

Granger was definitely something. She lived up to the public's expectations for sure. No wonder she used to look so up-tight, having to live with the two worst wankers of the country while basically doing everything. No wonder she now looked so drenched and hollow.

The scarred-goggled head auror and his right-hand wanker had never deserved her friendship. Those two bastards deserved Greengrass' wrath and more. Maybe Draco would make sure to trigger her anger. Right, maybe a lunch with Blaise was in order.

The bottle ripped from Hermione's fingers and made its way to the floor in slow motion. She saw it fall but was thoughtless. Empty. It shattered in a crash that sounded far away. Firewhiskey spread everywhere under the table and on her leather shoes. Shards of glass scattered around the room, some lodging under the cupboard, some next to her chair, some at the door. She tried to concentrate on a little piece of glass but her sight was so blurry it was nearly impossible. She'd drunk herself to oblivion. Her mind was unresponsive and she didn't feel anything.

It wasn't better. If nothing, it was worse somehow. She retrieved her wand from her sleeve, only to have it snatched from her. She met a set of piercing blue eyes. Or two, she didn't know.

"That's enough for you darling. Come with me." Aberforth grabbed her by the elbow, vanishing with a long wand the disaster she'd made.

"I'm sorry." She managed.

"It's nothing a wand can't fix." He helped her stand up and led her to the back room. She stumbled to the fireplace.

"You're not flooing back home in this state. You'll end up in the next building."

"Not possible … Muggle neighbourhood." She mumbled. He flicked his wand and a couch appeared out of nowhere. Amazing. Well, she knew how to do that too! She was a witch! She tried to draw her wand too but remembered Aberforth had it.

"Take a nap." He said, and went back to the main room, her wand with him.

"Sodding … my wand!" She babbled before letting herself fall almost next to the grayish couch.