Monday, May 26th, 2003.

Draco walked out of his company building, heading to the Leaky Cauldron, a bitter taste in his mouth. The meeting with Nott and Flint had not gone as planned. They'd insisted on knowing every detail of the agreement he was trying to get and the sum of the investment had seemed to interest them more than the profit they would make out of it. Draco had stayed resolutely mute about it and he'd sensed that their politeness had been forced.
When Blaise joined him at the counter, Draco was still trying to figure out what the glance both possible associates had shared had been about.

"Bad meeting?" Draco sighed:

"I don't know."

"What does that mean?"

"That I think they want something more out of it than just their share on the shops. But instead of asking they're trying to play me."

"Really? What could they want?"

"That's the thing. I don't know." After a moment of silent thinking, Blaise asked quietly:

"You think they want a share of your company?"

"I can't sell any." Blaise didn't answered right away. He had, since Friday night, avoided the subject of Draco's ordeal completely.

"Maybe you could offer more then? Simply sell them the shops."

"I was supposed to run one." Blaise shrugged:

"Just ask to manage one as an employee. Would be one thing off your hands. "

"Mm. Maybe."

Hermione got out of the department of Mysteries, a wide grin plastered on her face. She'd won. Even Kingsley had cheered once they'd left the courtroom. It hadn't been easy but she'd done it. With help. She now had a witch to thank. Two actually.

When she reached her department, Tracey didn't need to be told. She congratulated her right away, and led her to Astoria's new office.

The pretty witch was putting her things away in what had once been Martin's drawers, a frown on her face. When she heard them, she didn't need to be told either, and jumped on Hermione.

"I knew it! Congratulations!"

"Well, it's only thanks to you two."

"Don't me modest, you had all the work done, we only gave you a little push in the right direction." Smiled Tracey, her frown slightly less pronounced than usual. Hermione could swear she'd heard her mutter something about that direction being home Friday night, but she couldn't be certain, Astoria's voice was louder:

"We should celebrate! Let's go out Friday night!" She extolled. "Tracey you're coming too!"

"No thank you. I have other plans on Friday night."

"Oh." Tracey nodded and made to leave them. They were both left slightly disconcerted.

"If that's not a tight-arse …" Mumbled Astoria after a pause. Hermione didn't dare contradict her, even if Tracey probably didn't want to spend an evening with her boss, which was perfectly comprehensible. "Anyway. I'll tell Blaise tonight. He'll bring Malfoy too. Err … if you don't mind of course."

Hermione shrugged. She had no idea if she minded or not. To be honest she'd worried about him a bit too much to her taste since their last night out. The fact that he'd come, at her request, was already strange, but to add to it, he'd moved in with Zabini. And Astoria hadn't mentioned it once, it was unnerving. She settled for :"Err … I guess it's alright." There was a pause, in which Astoria's grin morphed.

"You can ask you know." Hermione decided to ignore her knowing smirk and ask. Not knowing was too irritating anyway.

"How is he?" Thankfully Astoria didn't comment, and her smirk vanished, as she scowled, maybe a tad angrily.

"I have no idea. Blaise refused to tell me."

"Really?"

"Yes, I think he learned the lesson. Our last experience with telling secrets seems to have been enough for him. You played us good by the way. I thought you'd only offer him your help." Hermione shrugged:

"I did."

"Yes, and you told him to forgive Blaise." The corner of her eyes pleated.

"Well, I owed him."

"No you didn't. You also talked about his potion shops." One of her eyebrow shot up.

"He told me in his answer. That's it."

"Right, and you suggested he kicked Blaise." Now she was smirking again.

"I was only trying to have him consider forgiveness."

"Right, and I'm ugly." Her smirking bliss didn't last long enough for Hermione to retort. Astoria frowned, and shook her head: "I'm spending too much time with him …"

Hermione took benefit in her sudden annoyance to leave her office and lock herself in hers. Whatever Astoria thought she knew, it was taking a turn Hermione definitely didn't feel comfortable with. She'd only tried to help. End of the story. She hadn't even worried that much. She'd just been curious. It was Malfoy for Godric's sake!

Tuesday, May 27th, 2003.

Sir Graham Foster sentenced to a year in Azkaban.

As expected, our favourite muggle-born heroine, Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her generation, has, yet again, proven to the wizarding community that no one should cross her path in the face of justice. The Foster trial had been delayed for months by the wizard's unbeatable defence until the Head of Law Enforcement …

"Exactly what she talked about Friday mate, they even put a picture of her from after the war." Draco grabbed the Prophet from Blaise's hands, and perused the article. It was a very detailed eulogy, punctuated by presumptuous post-war stupidity. It barely talked about the man she'd sent to jail. Something was missing though.

"Where's Weasley's interview?" Blaise's eyes grew wide:

"I forgot! Give it!" He scanned the whole paper, but didn't seem to find it either.

"It's not there."

"That's odd. Greengrass said …"

"I know. I'll ask her."

A moment passed, as they resumed eating their poor lunch and Blaise finally asked the inevitable question:

"So, the negotiations?" He made a show of chewing his steak. As if Draco couldn't see that he was all ears.

"The last meeting is tomorrow."

"What are you going to do?" He didn't even lower his fork. Subtle.

"Push it until they say what they really want."

"And if it's a share?"

"Try to sell them the shops." There was a pause before Blaise asked, his eyes resolutely drawn to his plate:

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll rot." Blaise grimaced, but didn't push the subject. It was the first time he gave a clue he still cared about the whole situation. His silence revealed more irritating that relieving.

"Have you seen that article? It's … unbelievable." In a bad way apparently.

"I don't read the paper Astoria."

"Even when you're ex-husband's interview is supposed to be there too?" Damn. She'd forgotten about that.

"Err …" Astoria quit reading the article and flipped the pages of the prophet. The more pages she turned, the more her frown deepened.

"What?"

"It's not in there." Hermione shrugged:

"Maybe Rita decided not to publish it."

"I doubt it. She was adamant that it got out. It's strange."

"Well, I think it's for the best. I have no wish to know what he thinks about me now." Mostly no wish to think about Ron at all. She had managed quite successfully not to until then, she wasn't about to go back to her old demons. Right, and by extension, she wouldn't think of Harry either. Or Ginny. End of the story. Oh, and George!

Wednesday, May 28th, 2003.

Blaise came back home, after a quick visit to Astoria's new office, feeling slightly irritated. His girlfriend, he still had to get used to the term, had said she had work to do. A new case had apparently been presented to their department, and even Granger had stayed late at work. They'd practically kicked him out of Granger's floor.

Letting those two work together was the worst idea their PM had ever had. Surely Blaise would never get to see Astoria on a working day ever again. He could get bored for Salazar's sake!

Draco only came home once Blaise was comfortably sitting in the couch, a book in hands, and a glass of firewhiskey in the other, trying to read away his growing boredom.

"Good day?" He asked, knowing by Draco's face that the answer wouldn't be pleasant.

"No. They want a share of the company." He growled.

"Shit."

"They said they'll consider any offer I'll make but …" He deflated all of the sudden.

"Sell the shops." Blaise tried.

"I'll try." He then slumped on the couch next to him, kicked his shoes off, probed his feet on the coffee table like he bloody well owned the place, and snatched the glass from Blaise's hand. He got some nerves.

But then, he'd looked hopeful a few days before, and now he just looked hollow. It was awful but Blaise wouldn't try to convince him. Granger's offer still held, and Draco needed to realise all by himself that he couldn't keep going like this. Lifting his mood though, that he could try.

"We're going out Friday night."

"Are we?" An almost white eyebrow shot up, he'd grabbed his attention.

"Yes, Astoria's booked a table somewhere."

"Why?" Both eyebrows up, he got the lad's full attention.

"To celebrate Granger's trial."

"And I'm invited?" He startled in clear disbelief.

"Apparently." Blaise smirked.

"Oh." He saw Draco hide a frown in the glass, pretending to drink, and then a very small, almost imperceptible smile. Blaise decided not to comment. If what Blaise thought he saw was real, then it was something Draco would have to find out on his own too.

Thursday, May 29th, 2003.

Hermione found that Astoria looked slightly odd that morning, but when she asked, the witch had dismissed it, "Blaise snores." She'd said irritably. Hermione had decided that it was none of her business. Whether she found it strange or not. "Trouble in paradise." Had muttered Tracey.

It was only at lunch, when the pretty witch started mumbling under her breath, holding the Prophet for the third day in a row that Hermione sighed:

"What's going on?"

"I've asked Pansy's cousin about the interview." She growled from behind the paper.

"Err … and?" She lowered the paper and folded it in half before answering:

"And it's been cancelled." Hermione shrugged, trying to convince herself that she didn't care. "He mentioned Potter." She added warily. A lump dropped at the pit of her stomach.

"Wh … What does Harry have to do with this?"

"I don't know. He just said that he came and that then he was ordered to destroy it." Astoria had apparently hesitated to tell her. Hermione understood her. Because she didn't understand why. Why would he … After their argument …

"You … You think … ?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he read it …"

"I … don't get your hopes up Hermione alright? If he'd done it for you, he would have told you." Hermione only nodded. Was it really all on Ron's behalf? She huffed inwardly. How stupid was she? Surely the interview would have shattered Ron's image more than hers, since Rita wouldn't publish anything nasty about her. Right, it was certainly only that.

"If he does though, call me. He'd better beg for forgiveness at your feet and have a full set of apologies ready or I'll take care of him." Hermione chuckled, somehow feeling better seeing Astoria's sudden fool mood.

"If he does I'll kick his arse before he says anything." She smirked. Astoria seemed relieved. There was no way Harry had done it for her after calling her a coward anyway. Why had she even asked herself the question? It raised a full batch of new questions on Ron's behalf though, but she shoved them away, returning to the open file before them. Work would keep her mind busy.

"Potter?" Why did that wanker always had to put his goggled nose everywhere?

"Yes. Stori said he had it cancelled." Answered Blaise.

"Odd." Why would he do that?

"Especially since the last time he had an article cancelled it was only because one of his aurors had done something wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Stori didn't tell Granger but she dug something out. When Potter works his way in the press, it means he's covering his arse."

"It doesn't mean it's the case now." Blaise shrugged as if suggesting otherwise. "You think Weasley's done something?" It was the only explanation Draco could find that made sense. After their argument it was certain that Potter wouldn't take Granger's side in anything. He'd thrown at her the worst insult for a Gryffindor after all. Calling one of them a coward was like calling a Ravenclaw stupid.

"Maybe." Shrugged Blaise.

"Why would he cancel the interview then? Wasn't it supposed to be something for his good image?"

"I don't know. Not to draw attention on him? I'll ask Stori."

"That's … "

"Weird yes." Indeed it was. If Draco had still been on good terms with Rita Skeeter he could have asked her. Except that after the nasty shit she'd published about him after the war they were now more navigating between polite acknowledgement and whispered insults. Draco sighed, he'd thought about the two last thirds of the broken golden trio way too much already. He needed to change his mind. Blaise seemed to think otherwise though:

"Shame the weasel's picture won't come out though." Draco chuckled. It was a shame indeed. After a moment of again picturing the two wankers, he sighed and asked:

"What's on that stupid paper anyway if they can't even publish when auror's don't do their jobs properly …" Blaise handed him the paper, and grabbed his glass instead:

"Nothing apart from an arrest. An ex wanna-be death-eater that hexed his pregnant wife because she'd bought a muggle dress or something."

"You're kidding?" Those kind of men still existed? In what world did they live?

"Nope. But he's back in Azkaban now, and not in a pretty state apparently."

"At least Potter's department's done something good." For once. Blaise snorted.

"Right. Let's catch a rotten idiot but whisper threats at people." He grumbled.

"They need to keep their image up after all. When they don't make women cry they eventually manage to catch a few bag guys."

"Right. Sodding wankers."