Wednesday, May 21st, 2003.

Hermione stormed out of the courtroom angrily. How dare them twist her words? The Foster defence was definitely sly. If they wanted to play this game then so be it. They would never see it coming. She was going to change her strategy. Kingsley had made it clear, they couldn't afford to loose this case. And they wouldn't, end of the story.

Striding out of the lift she almost knocked Tracey off her path.

"Err … Sorry Tracey."

"It's alright." The witch answered, wincing and rubbing her elbow. Then, her permanent frown deepened. "Gone wrong?" She asked.

"Those bastards twisted my words."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I need to change strategy. Come with me, I could use your opinion."

"Now? You're not going to lunch with Astoria?"

"Damn, I forgot. I don't have time. You were on your way down?"

"I was but I can just grab a sandwich."

"Would you mind telling her on your way?"

"No, not at all." She answered. "Be right there." And she jumped in the lift right away. Hermione thanked Merlin for Tracey Davis and went to lock herself in her office. She had a tremendous amount of work to do before the next day.

Blaise had tried calling Draco about a hundred times since Saturday night, to no avail. The wizard had shut his floo network. Astoria's letter had reached him, but Blaise's had been blocked afterwards and he hadn't answered. The only solution that he had left was to try and see him at his office.

Draco hadn't come around this time.

Blaise couldn't help the stony feeling at the pit of his stomach. It was the worst argument they'd ever had and he'd been awful to him.

Draco was all he had. He couldn't loose him.

He reached Malfoy inc.'s offices about a half hour later than he'd planned. One o'clock at his watch. Draco's lunch break was over, Blaise only hoped that he didn't have a meeting.

Reaching the second floor after passing reception, he stopped at Draco's secretary desk, and couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in distaste when he saw how ugly the woman was.

The pale mono-brow woman asked him who he was. She frowned at his name and grabbed a paper.

"Sorry Mr Zabini but Mr Malfoy won't be able to see you."

"I can wait."

"He said not to bother."

"What's that paper?"

"The list of person he doesn't want to see. You're at the top." She droned.

"DRACO!"

"Please calm down or I'll have to call security."

"COME ON YOU BASTARD ANSWER ME!"

"Security!"

Blaise was thrown to the street after being body-binded. They only released the spell once he was sitting, arse against the dirty pavement. To top the humiliation with, he'd made his case worse. He'd insulted Draco again.

What the hell had they done? Even Astoria hadn't been lucky with Granger. She'd told Blaise that she'd invited the witch to lunch as they always did, but that Granger had declined the two previous days. Astoria had rationalised, saying that she was in trial, but Blaise started to think that it wasn't a coincidence. Surely he hadn't realised how bad they'd both taken things and thinking of it, even if they'd seemed to make an effort both nights they'd spent together, it was true to say that they didn't hold the other in their heart. Having their friends plot for them to meet had been a terribly bad move.

Adding to that, knowing Draco and Granger, Blaise realised that they had a lot more in common than he'd thought. They were both stubborn beyond reason and they were certainly not about to forget and forgive that easily. Wrong, they were going to forget yes, but about him and Astoria.

Draco swallowed what was left of his fourth glass of firewhiskey. Blaise was right. He was pathetic. But he wasn't a bastard! Neither a wanker!

Whatever reason had pushed his best friend to plot behind his back, and even if he was probably right, Draco was nowhere near ready to forgive his words.

He thanked himself for hiring an ugly secretary. At least she was doing her job right.

After three days of deep thinking, and deep drinking – although only at the office since his home was now empty of alcohol thanks to his temper tantrums – he'd realised that Blaise making him meet Granger wasn't so big a deal. He'd gone to join her on his own, hadn't he? They'd only tried to make him see that she was more qualified to check his contract than he.

She was of course, but it was out of the subject.

Draco had read in the papers that the Foster trial had started Monday, Granger had enough work as it was. Plus, she didn't need his problems atop hers. And he would never, ever, ask her for a favour.

However, following her advice to earn more, thanks to the reopening of potion shops, was still possible. Fortunately the signature with Nott had only been planned for this week, so Draco had written to Flint and associates the previous day.

The answer came sometime after Blaise's little visit, around three o'clock. Nott might not take well the change in plans, but Flint had agreed. All Draco had to do now, was to wait.

If they offered a high enough investment, Draco would be able to reopen the shops. He'd have to report it, and thus see Granger, but it would keep him so busy for the next year, and maybe help him forget his ordeal, that it felt worth it.

"No offence Miss Granger but I think you might need a break."

"Offence taken. I'm perfectly …"

"No you're not. We're running in circles. Maybe you'd use someone else's opinion?"

"Right. You're right." Hermione sighed, giving up on the torn parchment she was holding. She tried to pass her hand through her hair irritably but realised she couldn't. She needed a fresh opinion as well as a shampoo.

"Maybe Astoria would …" She started.

"I'll fetch her." Tracey ran out the office as if scared. Hermione was a mess. Her hair was a mess. Although there was nothing new there. Still, it was worse than usual.

She rummaged through the first drawer of her desk in search of a hair-band. She threw in the bin three outdated snack bars, and a crumpled invitation for commemoration night. Roughly pulling her nest up, she managed to tie it in a really big and messy bun atop her head. Sighing, she tried to put some sort of order through her notes.

When the mess was arranged in three neat piles, all that was left on the desk was the draft of a letter, crossed everywhere and crumpled. The letter had been forgotten Monday morning.

Sunday she'd tried to write something to Malfoy. She'd failed miserably and it had then slipped her mind. Offering help for something she knew nothing about, to someone who didn't want help, had revealed a really difficult task to complete.

Now that she'd seen it, it wouldn't get off her mind though. Hermione hadn't seen Astoria since Saturday night, so she didn't know if Malfoy had forgiven Zabini. She was still undecided. She had no idea what to do. Maybe Astoria could clear that point too.

"Merlin! You really were busy, weren't you?" Hermione startled out of her thoughts as Astoria came to sit facing her, followed by a frowning Tracey.

"Of course I was, why?"

"I … Err I thought you were still mad at me."

"Wh … Really? No." Astoria grinned in response and then, went for work:

"I take it the trial isn't running as planned?"

"Not an ounce, I need your opinion." Astoria nodded vividly, a wide and relieved grin still on her face as she grabbed the first document from the pile on the left. Malfoy's situation would have to wait.

After spending his afternoon trying to distract himself watching one of his secretary's cleavage, Blaise decided that first, he didn't give a damn about her breasts, he had better around these days, and second, he couldn't stand being alone when he had probably lost his best friend over some stupid, stupid move.

Astoria had sent an owl, saying she'd be late and that if he wanted he could wait for her at her place. Blaise wasn't the patient type though. So, around six o'clock, he went to the Ministry.

It took a half hour to pass through the dreadful post-war security. Why in hell didn't they change that? The war had been over for years! What did they fear? Sodding Potter.

Grumbling angrily under his breath he took the lift. The damn thing stopped about ten times before reaching Improper use of Magic. AND to top it all, Astoria was at Law Enforcement according to her boss. McMillan was as ugly as he'd been in school. As irritatingly pompous too.

Blaise took the lift again, not before making sure to drop a little condescending comment to the head of Astoria's department. This time the dreadful box stopped at the Auror's office.

Of course, just his luck.

Potter was at a door in a wide corridor facing the lift. He saw him right away and Blaise smirked his face off, adding a bit of eyebrow wiggling and a hand wave just to mess with him, as a tall blond guy joined him inside.

Blaise couldn't help but chuckle before stepping out of the horribly shaky box, Potter's face had somehow brightened his mood.

He reached an empty desk. Tracey Davis. Right, he'd forgotten about that.

The bint wasn't there though. Passing her desk he shot a glance at the corridor. He could hear muffled heated chatter somewhere.

Gluing his ear to every door, he concluded that the floor was entirely empty, except for Granger's office. A muffliato had been shot on the door though, and he had to pluck his pinky fingers in his ears to get rid of the buzzing. He was still able to hear voices but it was impossible to decipher what was said or who was speaking.

McMillan had seemed certain that Astoria was there though. So, suddenly fidgety for a reason he couldn't fathom, Blaise knocked.

"Be really precise when you read this. I'm pretty sure they could twist that statement too." Astoria added.

"Right, I'll just write down exactly what to say and stick to that. Tracey I'll have to come in early, do you mind coming too? I might need your help."

"No problem. What time?"

"Six o'clock? Just go home early tomorrow to make it up alright?"

"Yes …" A muffled knock interrupted her.

"Damn." Hermione growled. "Who is it? You told Ernie you were in the archives right?"

"I did." Astoria nodded. "He said he wouldn't need me."

"Err." Hermione stood to open the door, just enough that only her face could be seen. Zabini?

"You're not supposed to go past the secretary desk Zabini." She scowled, irritated with the interruption. He seemed really uncomfortable all of a sudden. It was a grimace she'd never expected to see on him.

"I know. I was just looking for Stori, her boss told me she was there."

"She's not. I'll send a note, she'll meet you in the atrium if you'd like."

"Right. Alright. Thank you Granger." He nodded, and went to go. Hermione felt Astoria squeeze her shoulder then, and a murmur reached her ear:

"He thinks you're still mad at him." Hermione sighed, and went for him, closing the door after her. "Zabini wait!" He turned around right away, frowning, and he spoke before she got a chance to:

"Look Granger, I'm sorry for Saturday. I … Draco won't talk to me …" His jaw clenched then, Astoria was right, he was a wreck. Hermione had never ever imagined that Blaise Zabini could loose his usual self-confidence this way. Malfoy had to be really important to him.

"He'll come around eventually. If I'm not mad at you, surely he won't stay mad for long."

"You're not mad at me?" He asked with clear disbelief.

"No." Hermione shrugged. "You were trying to help I guess. You got it all wrong obviously but …"

"Did you tell Stori?"

"Wh … yes, why?"

"She was really upset that you didn't join her for lunch."

"Oh, don't worry, I told her. I was really busy with the trial."

"Good. Good. She likes you a lot you know?" He started and then caught himself: "I obviously don't understand why but …"

"Very funny Zabini." He chuckled and his smirk was back.

" You Gryffindors have no humour." He taunted, shaking his head.

"And you Slytherins are annoying."

"Yeah but you can't do without us." He grinned. Hermione couldn't believe the change in his face. All that after she'd told him she wasn't mad at him.

"Who likes who now, Zabini?" She mocked and his smirk dropped instantly. "Now, go, I'll send Astoria." He scowled but when he went for the lift, Hermione saw him smile. Apparently Blaise Zabini liked her. It was as simple as that. It cleared her thoughts too, now she didn't need to wonder why he'd helped her, or why he'd taken her side against Harry and Ron.

It was still the weirdest thing ever, but somehow it made sense. Plus, now she knew how to make it up to him, and what to write in her letter.

Draco had accioed all his files and stationery – the little that wasn't broken – to his bedroom. He hadn't set foot in his father's office since Saturday. His bedroom was a gigantic mess now, but at least he would be able to pass out in his bed, instead than on the tiny craned desk he'd found in a guest room.

He hadn't heard from neither Flint nor Nott, so all he'd been doing was the usual boring paperwork. His eyes hurt. Rubbing them with his sleeve, he sighed heavily. He needed a break. Unfortunately, Blaise wasn't an option.

Draco jumped, making his quill rip on the parchment he was holding. An owl was at his window. He'd blocked Sherry's and Blaise's!

How had they managed to … Oh, Greengrass. He'd forgotten Greengrass. Untying the letter from the rapacious, he realised it was a Ministry owl. He frowned, they never wrote there, he'd specifically given them his office address.

Malfoy,

Astoria gave me your address, not after ten minutes of arguing that you might not appreciate though. Sorry if it's a burden. I've seen them both today, and I think you might want (or if you're still pissed off, enjoy) to know that Zabini is a wreck. I'd never imagined he could stop being infuriating and self-praising to almost cry in front of me. I don't know the extent of your friendship, but I could tell that he was genuinely sorry. Hear him out? Or yell at him, hex him, kick him, and then forgive him?

They were definitely both out of line, and I have no idea what Saturday was about, but perhaps knowing this will encourage you to put an end to his ordeal. Or maybe I just made it worse and you're going to kill him. Burn that letter if you do, it won't do to have the Head of Law Enforcement arrested for abetting murder.

Also, I figured that, even if they thought differently, whatever it was about Saturday is none of my business. It seemed nonetheless that they thought I could help with something. I got that you don't want my help, I also understand that asking me for anything is something you'd never consider (trust me I share the feeling).

But, (of course there's a but) I feel like I owe you somehow (don't use that to blackmail me) since you were kind (?) enough to keep your mouth shut for me. So, I just wanted to let you know that if you ever were to change your mind, you know where to find me. I don't promise I'll be able to help of course, but I'm willing to try.

Of course, I won't take it wrong if you refuse, and I hope that I didn't piss you off any further. Don't mind the jokes, apparently I don't possess any sense of humour.

H. Granger.

Why in hell had he chuckled? Twice! She was out of line too with that sodding letter! Right? Well, she'd only tried to help. Granger was a Gryffindor. At least she hadn't gone behind his back.

Blaise deserved to be a wreck. He'd called him a coward! A wanker! And a bastard!

Draco read the letter once more. He then slapped his forehead as he chuckled once more.

But maybe he should follow this advice too, kicking Blaise's arse was definitely something he felt like doing.

Something was odd though, Granger showed concern for the moron in her letter. Apparently Blaise had been right, she liked him too. Because yes, Blaise couldn't deny that he liked Granger. Not in the same way he liked Greengrass of course, but still. It had started with some unexpected and misplaced concern, and had ended up with willingly joining her for drinks. What was it that he saw in her? A potential friend?

Draco had to blink a few times. He couldn't believe where his thoughts were heading. Was Blaise, as in Blaise Zabini his (maybe) ex-best friend, former Slytherin, friends with Granger? Granger as in brightest book-worm of their age, golden girl … Err … right. That Granger was gone, well, nearly.

Plus, he'd done the very same thing himself, hadn't he? He'd willingly sat with her. Talked to her. He'd even enjoyed … Sweet Salazar no. No, no, no.

Still, would she allow herself to write to him like that if they hadn't gotten along?

This was just confusing.

Draco sighed, and decided to postpone the thinking to the next morning. Or maybe never.