Saturday, May 17th, 2003.

Part three: Schemed encounter.

Zabini seemed to be done with the questioning. Hermione didn't understand his sudden interest, his self-confidence at having done nothing he could be blamed for, enough to show that this wasn't really about him. The fact that Malfoy seemed to be fuming right then gave her another clue.

She had no idea how to link both informations, surely Malfoy hadn't done anything reprehensible, he had always followed the Law scrupulously, but it seemed to be about him nonetheless.

Hermione wondered if she could ask, or for once, had better put her curiosity aside. Malfoy certainly didn't need any more anger. His small smile had definitely vanished and he was now glaring daggers at his friend. The last seemed oblivious, for now his focus was only on Astoria as they started their usual bickering again.

The only thing that could link her job with Malfoy was his company, since Hermione couldn't fathom him being on trial. Maybe he wanted to sue someone? Why would he be angry with Zabini then?

It made no sense. Zabini had asked details about her job, maybe this was more specific. Did he want her to work on something? For Malfoy? And the last probably didn't want her involved with his business.

She watched the concerned blond intently, trying to figure out what was going on with him, but all she could discern was anger. His glare was … a real death glare. The tension on his face had returned and he looked the more exhausted. His eyes resembled two narrow slits of darkness, the cool grey she knew was gone, hidden behind wrath and shadows of tiredness. His neck was stiff even if his collar was unbuttoned and his jaw so clenched she worried he'd break his teeth. Dentists parents and all that came with it.

Zabini and Astoria were completely oblivious to the sudden tension in the air.

Hermione, who had until then spent a rather good evening, decided not to let things be ruined. Whatever was happening wasn't any of her business, especially since they hadn't asked anything. Plus, she felt like she owed Malfoy and his friend. She tried to ease his tension and make things right. However small the gesture.

She grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, making Malfoy turn to her. His eyebrows rose for a millisecond as his hand lifted out of reflex. She smirked at him, satisfied that he seemed to have forgotten his anger a second. Then, she quickly snatched his glass from him. He hadn't expected it for sure. His eyes grew wide and then the corner of his mouth creased in disapproval.

Hermione gave him a grin, and refilled his almost empty glass:

"Here, make this one worth it." She advised, using his own words from the first evening they'd spent together. He scowled, but took the glass nonetheless and started drinking. At least he wasn't glaring at Zabini any more. He was more watching her suspiciously from the corner of his eyes.

But the moment of respite didn't last long, for he seemed to go back to his thoughts, and started watching Zabini once more.

Hermione sighed and his face shot up to her.

"What's wrong Malfoy?" She asked quietly.

"Nothing." He lied openly. Hermione saw him focus to show a blank face. She cocked an eyebrow at him, pursuing her lips in a scowl that hopefully told him she wasn't dupe. He stayed stubbornly mute, pretending not to see her.

"Why are you angry?" She asked.

"I have no bloody idea."

Draco hadn't been able to contain his tone this time. He couldn't even hide his emotions either apparently.

"You're not that good of a liar for a Slytherin." She quietly stated. Draco was fuming at Blaise and, even if he realised it wasn't said meanly, he still snapped back:

"Well maybe if you minded your own bloody business I wouldn't have to lie." Blaise and Greengrass stopped talking as shock showed immediately on Granger's face. He was too angry to regret it.

"Watch your tone Malfoy." She warned. "I'm not the one you're angry with." She was right of course, and it only infuriated him more. Whether he was being irrational or not was of no relevance.

"What's going on?" Blaise was just on time.

"What's going on? You tell me Blaise."

"Wh … I don't get it what's gotten you?"

"Don't play numb with me. And from now on, when I say I don't want something, you mind your own shit. You don't scheme behind my back Blaise. I'm not some random witch you shag."

"What, how … Shit."

"Right, shit." He snarled and stood.

"Come on mate I didn't think you were this serious about it … I just thought you'd realise someone else could …"

"Shut up! It's none of their business! It's none of yours either!" He withdrew an stupid accusing finger that had shot to Blaise as the lad lifted his in return:

"Oh but it is! You've been spending the last four years complaining to me! I just …"

"Well then don't worry, I won't again." Blaise's eyes grew wide and Draco congratulated himself for the effect he had on him. How dare he go behind his back like that?

"What do you …" Before he could finish his sentence, Draco was at the door.

Malfoy stormed out of the pub, banging the door so fiercely after him that the walls cracked.

"Mate now come on! Don't be like that!" Zabini stood and went after his friend. Hermione had never imagined that Malfoy could be so angry. His face had been so screwed and reddening that she'd stayed frozen.

"What the hell is going on?" She asked to a wincing Astoria as the door to the pub closed behind Zabini. Astoria shut her eyes a moment, then she looked at Hermione, her lids pleating and her lips screwing in something very unlike her.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I … Don't be mad but we meddled."

"I figured that. What did you do?" She was starting to understand Malfoy's anger now. They'd planned the whole encounter. Of course they had.

"We just planned to meet here …"

"Right. Again, I figured as much. What I don't understand is why."

"I'm sorry Hermione … We were having a good time …"

"It doesn't matter. We aren't any more now, are we?" Hermione snapped.

"I know. We didn't mean for it to go this wrong." Hermione sighed, Astoria seemed genuinely sorry. Of course they hadn't planned for it to go wrong. But it still didn't explain why they would want her to meet Malfoy. And especially why they would do it behind her back.

"Why did you want us to meet Astoria?" She asked between clenched teeth.

"I … I can't really explain what this is about … " Astoria stuttered, her face screwed in apologies.

"You owe me as much." She growled.

"Right, you're right but …" She sighed under Hermione's glare. "Malfoy has an issue he's really … touchy about and we thought you might be able to help."

"Oh." To help. They'd schemed to help. Hermione took a gulp at her drink to calm her nerves. They were trying to help Malfoy. "How?"

"It doesn't matter, he doesn't want any help."

"My help you mean." For a reason she couldn't explain, as soon as the words got out of her mouth she knew she wrong.

"Don't be silly it's nothing to do with you. It's just … It's really complicated. He doesn't want anyone to help him and he refuses to speak about it. It's … He's … stubborn. Blaise only wanted to help. It's been years and he's done nothing …"

"What is it?" Hermione would loose her temper if Astoria kept avoiding the question.

"I … I'm sorry I promised … I'm not even supposed to know. It's … really personal for Malfoy."

Hermione didn't really know what to say. How could Zabini possibly think that having her meddling in Draco Malfoy's personal business would be alright with him?

Whatever good terms had occurred lately, whatever help, Malfoy was still Malfoy. He didn't like Hermione.

Except that he'd sat with her. He'd looked at his worst and had sought her company. Zabini didn't seem stupid, in fact she was sure he wasn't. He probably had good reasons to think she could help.

Maybe she should. Well, seeing the way Malfoy had reacted he would probably never want anything to do with any of them any time soon. But still … if she could do something …

"Salazar would you stop running you bloody stubborn wanker!" Blaise almost bumped into Draco as he abruptly stopped his race to wherever.

"What did you call me?" He hissed.

"A wanker. Because you're acting like one right now." Blaise was playing his last card. A very dangerous bet it was to push all of Draco's buttons. He was risking their friendship but if only Draco would consider listening it would be for the best.

"Fuck off Blaise. Get out of my sight before I hex you."

"You wouldn't. What you're going to do is quit behind a bloody jackass, and listen to me for once in your life! I'm your friend all right? I'm not doing this to piss you off!"

"Good fucking job!" He snarled, throwing his hands in the air.

"Listen to me! Mate, you're miserable. You've been miserable for years and it's getting worse. I can't fucking bear with standing by, doing nothing, while you drink like a fucking addict and spend your time working your eyes out because of that fucking contract!"

"And you think I enjoy it? Working twenty hours a day?"

"You didn't listen you moron. You hate it and it's about time you try and do something about it!"

"THERE IS NOTHING TO FUCKING DO ABOUT IT!"

"YES THERE IS! You just have to ask her!"

"Blaise, listen to me very carefully." Draco drawled. "There is no loophole in that contract. I am stuck with it."

"It's her job. If there's no loophole she might find a Law to counter it. If there's someone able to help you it's her." Blaise kept his ground.

"Granger doesn't need my fucking problems too Blaise. She's got enough on her plate as it is and even so, I don't want her help. If you've got an issue with the way I live my life then fuck off. I couldn't care less."

Blaise huffed: "Liar. If that's about Granger …"

"It has nothing to do with her. It has to do with you, plotting behind my back to do something I clearly told you I didn't want to do." Why had he blinked then? Was he lying?

"Are you sure? I think that's half the problem." Blaise tried.

"What?"

"What is it with her? What …"

"Nothing! It's got nothing to do with her!" Again he'd cut him.

"I don't believe that a second. I know you've heard things. I don't know what it is but mate, have you seen yourself? You need to do something about that contract. Why ever you don't want her help, Granger is all we've got to sort this through. No one will help you and you know that. And I'm certain she'd be willing to do it."

"Are you fucking deaf?! I don't want her help!" Draco barked.

"Then what? You're gonna spend the rest of your life alone, working like a madman in that Salazar forsaken company?"

"Yes."

"Good life ahead of you mate. You know what? I'm sick of this. I can't stand you cowardly accepting your fate. Bury yourself in self-pity how you want. I won't be part of it any more." Blaise concluded, lifting both his hands in surrender. The answer he got, he should have expected:

"Good. Then fuck off my life too."

"See? Self-pity. You're pathetic Draco. There's help right there but right, keep sulking like a bloody kid throwing temper tantrums. Stay in your shit if you like. But from now on you're on your own."

The chair flew from the corner at the window, to the mahogany desk, crashing in pieces. The desk cracked and fell to its side, scrapping the wooden floor. A ghostly white hand clutched at the mantle atop the chimney, its knuckles white. A raspy breathing echoed.

"Your mother is dissatisfied with the noise." Disdain was audible in the low tone of voice. Draco's left hand swept all the books off the shelf above the chimney. They flew to the floor in a loud noise of wrinkled pages and torn apart covers. The voice didn't speak more.

It was too silent. Draco opened his eyes and turned around to the window. The small cabinet close to it would make noise, a lot of noise. He took the two steps needed and kicked its door open. Then, one by one, he took the bottles out.

One by one, he threw them against the wall. The glass crashed in a million of clinking sounds, the amber liquid spreading all around the room in splashes.

When there was nothing left for him to break, the voice spoke again:

"I'm glad you're finally getting what you deserve." The portrait was empty when he finally looked.

His father was dead. That bastard was dead and still, he was playing with him. Did Draco really deserve all this?

Watching the devastated room he let himself fall against the door. Self-pity.

Why would he fight against it anyway? Why would he try when he knew perfectly well that there was nothing to be done?

False hopes? Inevitable deception?

But this was unbearable. Even Blaise couldn't stand it. Blaise had given up. He'd given up on him. How long before Draco gave up too?

Zabini had come back a mumbling wreck. From what Hermione had understood, they'd argued and he'd insulted Malfoy. Astoria had apologised a dozen times and flooed away with him. Hermione had ended up apparating back to her crappy street, apparently sobered up by anger. She opened her door, not remembering walking up the stairs.

Draco Malfoy. He was all she could think about. His tensed and clenched jaw, his cold darkened eyes, the way he'd stormed out of the pub. Something she couldn't understand was ruining him.

If Blaise Zabini thought she could help then surely his problem was drastic. Surely it was something important.

Slytherins seemed to tend to meddle in others' business all the time but this was different. They couldn't simply ask or speak out. They had to scheme and plot, try and trap. Gryffindors were much simpler to handle. They might not ask for help, but at least they didn't stand by and do nothing when facing an issue.

Except when Draco Malfoy was concerned apparently. What was she supposed to do anyway? If even his best friend couldn't help him, then who was she to try?

Malfoy didn't want help. Or so they said. It had seemed to Hermione that what had angered him the most, was that his friend had gone against his wishes. Behind his back. Hermione understood all to well the feeling. Betrayal. It felt like betrayal, just as when she'd heard Judith's conversation. Just like what she'd felt in her chest when she'd realised Astoria and Zabini had plotted behind her back too.

Apparently she had more in common with Draco Malfoy than she'd thought. Interfering friends seemed to be one of those things. Was Astoria even her friend? She'd thought so. Now she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was some sort of twisted Slytherin way to see friendship.

At the thought, a tapping noise made its way to her ears from the kitchen window.

Hermione,

I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for things to go this way. I know I ruined our second night out and I promise I won't do something like that again. Don't be mad please.

I don't know what we were thinking. Blaise is a wreck, he's sorry too.

It was a very bad idea to plot behind your back. We sent a letter to Draco too, maybe he'll come around. If he does, we leave it up to him to come to you if he changes his mind.

No more meddling in others' personal stuff.

I'm sorry, I hope you still want to be friends because I do.

Astoria.

Apologies. At least they recognised being wrong. Hermione couldn't stay mad at her. Nor at Zabini for that matter. They'd only tried to help. They'd just promised not to do it again.

Malfoy needed help.

Maybe if she offered he'd … No. Surely it would only make things worse and the seemingly civility between them would be gone.

But still … He'd helped her. With her staff, with Harry, with that sodding interview. If she could do something for him in return, why wouldn't she? Except the only way she could think of to help was to trick the stubborn man into asking or at least reveal what this was about, and she wasn't going to do that.

Maybe if she went for it the Gryffindor way, he'd consider it. If he refused then she would have done all she could.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Blaise. Or bloody Sherry. Who else could it be?

Draco,

Please forgive us. We only meant to help. Please forgive Blaise, you're all he's got.

Hermione is pissed off too, but we didn't tell her. She was willing to help without knowing though. We leave up to you to decide whatever you want to do. We won't interfere again. We promise not to meddle in your life any more. It's only your business, you are right.

I'm so sorry things turned out this way. I never meant for you to argue with Blaise. He'll be at my place if you want to reach him.

Please come around.

Astoria.

He'd cut his hand with shards of glass. The paper was stained with red. Draco crumpled the letter between his wounded fingers and threw it to the middle of the mess. He then got up, and went straight to bed, leaving the office to the elves, and staining the sheets with blood.