Friday, May 30th, 2003.

Part two: Pleasant encounter?

Well, Draco was in a good mood. The lad, usually so annoying about punctuality had showed up thirty minutes late, pretexting a prolonged meeting. Blaise wondered if they'd refused his offer. Probably. Although it seemed evident for Blaise that his best friend was glowering in ire, he was also pretending to be perfectly fine, and at least Granger seemed to fall for it. Maybe.

They sat down at the secluded table Astoria had booked for them in a small but cosy restaurant. Something not really fancy, to avoid attracting too much attention, she'd said. They were hidden behind a large curtain of potted plants, that, if still incapacitated people to really see them, also didn't hide them entirely.

The waitress was pretty enough, but he seemed to be the only one to notice. Although he didn't look at her long, Astoria had taken his hand under the table and his interest shifted immediately. That woman would be the end of him. The drinks and appetisers appeared on the table instantly after they'd ordered, and Astoria lifted her drink to a visibly uncomfortable Granger:

"So, to Hermione, and her brilliant arse kicking in court!"

"Right to Granger." Blaise added, as Draco only nodded stiffly, all lifting their drinks up in the air.

Reality seemed to fall upon Hermione just at the precise moment she took the first sip of firewhiskey. She was, for the first time ever, celebrating having won in court, in a restaurant with none other than Astoria Greengrass, whom she'd only been courteously but rarely working with a few weeks before, Blaise Zabini, whom she'd avoided like the plague until then, and Draco Malfoy, her childhood bully – among other unpleasant things that could be attributed to him. AND she was, even if slightly embarrassed with the attention, glad to be there.

What the hell had happened to her?

"What's with the face Granger? So used to win you're not happy to celebrate?"

"Err …" The hell to it, why no be honest with Zabini? "Actually it's the first time I ever celebrate my work." She confessed.

"You're kidding, right?" Startled Astoria.

"No. And, no offence, but … I mean …" She gestured towards the table, not knowing exactly how to put it and not hurt their feelings. "Who could have imagined here that this would happen?"

"What? Spending your precious evening with us? But you dreamed about it a thousand times!" Zabini smirked. He seemed to understand which released the tension that had suddenly appeared on Astoria's face. Hermione chuckled.

"Imagine this dinner, ten years ago." She said.

"I would have had to restrain Draco from hexing you." Zabini gushed, holding back a laugh. Hermione almost laughed too:

"I would have hexed him first." Malfoy snorted in outrage.

"I was a bloody seeker. You'd never hit." He countered, and now she laughed:

"I'm a war heroine Malfoy, you'd never see it coming!" She'd been about to add the reminder that she'd already hit him in third year, and that he certainly hadn't seen it coming back then but Astoria jumped in:

"I knew you used that card sometimes!" She accused as if she'd discovered Hermione's secret.

"Of course she does." Zabini shrugged. "I use my good looks. You play with what you have."

"Don't pretend that you don't to use your assets too Greengrass. I've seen you make this one crawl at your feet for commemoration." Added Malfoy.

"Oh and what do you use Malfoy?" She snapped back as Zabini seemed to reflect on that.

"My money." It was so blunt that Astoria shut her mouth, killing her retort in the egg. Then, she grimaced:

"Alright, it seems we're all rotten. Welcome to our circle Hermione. The rotten people." Hermione shrugged at Astoria's apparent bitterness. She agreed with Zabini, sometimes, if you wanted something, you had to play around the rules. Why did she feel like saying it aloud would trigger sniggers?

"I don't see what's wrong in using your assets to get what you want from time to time. Rules are made to be broken."

She'd been wrong. There was a pause. Then the sniggers.

"Would you put that on paper for me? I'll make money. A lot of money." Zabini said, pretending to grab a napkin and fuss around for a quill.

"It's the century's confession. I can't believe you said it! I knew it!" Extolled Astoria.

The only one it didn't seem to surprise was Malfoy. He'd been the one calling her a tight-arse all through school though.

"Nothing to add Malfoy?" She asked.

"You broke into Gringott's, polyjuiced as my nasty aunt. It's no surprise to me." He blanched, if that was possible. As if he'd just realised who he'd mentioned.

Damn. That was definitely not a subject he wanted to branch with her. Ever. Especially not in public. Fucking idiot. She shook her head and although she stayed turned to him, avoided his eyes. Then, she smirked and he froze.

"I also brewed polyjuice in second year and Harry and Ron went as Crabbe and Goyle to make you spill the beans." Well, the change of subject was efficient. He was completely abashed.

"What?"

"We thought you might be the heir of Slytherin and …" She had the decency to flush at that. "They did a good job though. You never realised it."

"Are you serious?" When? He certainly didn't remember neither Crabbe nor Goyle being odd once. Well, not more than usual anyway.

"You brewed polyjuice in second year?" Muttered Greengrass, an expression close to awe on her face.

"Yes, and yes, in Myrtle's bathroom. Sorry about that Malfoy."

"I … Who are you?" It was the only coherent thought Draco had been able to form. Who the fuck was that witch?

"I might repeat myself but how the hell did you end up in Gryffindor?" Greengrass' face was half agape in admiration, half frowning in something he couldn't place.

"Err …" Granger paused and seemed to settle on: "I guess I was braver than …"

"Devious?" He cut.

"I was thinking cunning but …" She finally turned her gaze back to him. She could have shrugged. As if it were nothing.

"That was pure mischief." He said.

"Oh, come on you dramatic!" She dismissed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not dramatic!" Blaise had the good idea to burst out laughing. Draco's glare didn't stop him.

"I was thirteen." She argued.

"That's even worse."

"Oh! You're one to talk!" She snapped. He blinked. Right. He hadn't exactly been an angel himself. "It was a lifetime ago anyway." She concluded quietly, eyeing him from a side. "I was just trying to say, that even though it's the least expected gathering, I'm glad to be here." She was? She was also avoiding his eyes, smiling nervously. As if they'd reject the idea.

"I knew you couldn't resist me Granger." Blaise saved Draco from saying anything. And thank Salazar because he'd had no idea what could have come out of his mouth then.

"Oh shut it. You'd crawl back to your mother if I were to throw myself at you." She retorted. Draco almost chocked as Greengrass burst out laughing:

"That is so true!"

"Well, to my defence, you are quite scary." Blaise justified, lamely in Draco's opinion.

"Here I thought you were overly self-confident." She taunted.

"But not reckless." He pointed out.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" There was warning in her tone. Draco watched the exchange of wits, utterly baffled.

"That you hid your cards pretty well all those years, Granger. If I'd known, we would've been friends for long. Just friends." He'd added the last part with a bit of a wary tone and Greengrass' laughter doubled. Granger was ... grinning. At Blaise. Draco had known it. They were friends.

"That's not what the papers will say tomorrow." Granger chuckled.

"I can't wait to see how they'll put it. Muggle-born war heroin with pure-blooded aristocrat. Or, head of law enforcement with business man, possible conflict of interest." Greengrass wasn't making any sense.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco finally asked.

"Oh, we saw Pansy earlier. I might have called Granger love in front of her."

"Why?" Pansy, again.

"She was picking at Hermione." Explained Greengrass.

"Really? When?" Draco tried to swallow back his sudden wrath but it was possible he failed.

"Just before getting there, you know, and waiting for you for an eternity." Completed Blaise.

"Oh." So that was what Pansy had been on about! Poor naive bitch. Rotten, and stupid.

"Her face was priceless. She stuttered." Extolled Astoria.

"Who's devious now?" Mocked Hermione. Astoria pulled her tongue at her. It seemed to be something they both did a bit too much recently. Of course it triggered a flirting comment from Zabini. What he wanted to do with her tongue was something Hermione had no wish to hear about.

Judging by Malfoy's grimace, he didn't either.

Hermione didn't know what subject to start with, the logical side of her brain told her to ask him about the potion shops, but the way he'd looked positively furious when he'd arrived after his meeting made her reluctant.

She couldn't possibly ask about his moving in with Zabini either, it was none of her business. What did one speak about with their old childhood enemy anyway? This was unnerving. Plus, as much as he was not looking the couple's way, he was also avoiding her eyes.

She found that her chair was slightly turned to him. As they'd talked, she'd moved it unconsciously. That made her frown. But what kept her frown in place was the way Malfoy was clenching his jaw. The same tension she'd seen on his neck that night at Hog's Head was back and it was unsettling. His fingers, that she found rather long – it would be a shame if he didn't play the piano – hold a furious grasp on his glass, his knuckles were as white as a sheet.

Hermione wondered if his meeting had been the sole reason for his stiffness, and she thought that it was probably not. Almost every time she'd seen him, whether they'd joked around or not, he'd looked like that. And to add to it, exhaustion had again left light purple stains under his cold stare into nothing. He'd refused her help though, when it was clearly evident that whatever issue he had was more than bothering him. What could she do? Even Zabini had given up on trying to help.

Well, if she didn't know what to talk about, she still didn't want to remain stoic. She waited, but he didn't drink what little was left in his glass. So, after a moment where Astoria and Zabini had found the time to bicker about something she didn't understand, she drew a hand to his glass. He jumped as their fingers brushed and seemed so taken aback by her movement that he didn't resist when she extracted the glass from his grip.

She decided not to look at him then. She grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cork, poured him a tad more than appropriate for a spirituous drink, and took her time to close the bottle again. Then, without a word, she pushed the glass back to him.

She didn't say anything, her gaze was resolutely glued to what she was doing. It didn't take a lot of concentration though, and Draco could see that she was just avoiding his eyes. She was frowning, hard, and a corner of her mouth was bound in a crooked line. She had a dimple on her right cheek. Was that line worried? It looked as such.

"Thanks." He mumbled as she pushed the glass back to him. The line loosened to the start of a smile and she turned deep brown questioning eyes to him. How had she seen? Was he that transparent now? No, Greengrass hadn't seen. Blaise had, but then, there wasn't much Draco could hide from him, even when he tried, but Granger?

Intuitive and compassionate. Maybe Greengrass was right, she knew her better than he after all. And now that he knew what she'd been through even with work, it was undeniable anyway.

He didn't say anything though, and when she'd apparently decided not to look his way much longer, he watched her fidget and glance at the glass she'd pushed to him.

She seemed better than the last couple of times he'd seen her. She didn't stare into nothing any more. She seemed less tired, less … hollow? Well, less hungover certainly. Was it the outcome of the trial that had finally eased her tiredness? Or was it that she was getting over all the shit her supposed friends had put her through? Or over that? No, he supposed no one could really get over loosing a child. Even less three. His heart clenched at the thought.

She kept giving his glass quick worried glances though, so he lifted it to his lips and saw her turn her gaze to her own glass nervously. He sighed:

"Ask, and get it over with." Her face snapped up to his and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. After a moment where he'd stayed frozen, trying to maintain his usual bored stare, she sighed.

"You don't want to talk about it." She said in a final tone, and then grabbed her glass. It was true. Especially since it concerned her. How was he supposed to tell her he'd threatened someone to death on her behalf? How insane would she think he was? How insane was he anyway? He'd just been so angry at that bitch Pansy! Right, he'd have reacted the same way about any other muggle-born. It wasn't really about Granger, more about Pansy fucking Parkinson, poking her disgusting nose in his business, ruining his chance of escape, and being her rotten self.

"Maybe … maybe we could talk about something else?" She tried, wariness even in her posture. It snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Whatever you pick." She shrugged, apparently relieved he hadn't refused.

"Err …"

"Look, it's either that or we keep listening to them and frankly I'd rather hang myself." She blurted, her eyes back on him, and he couldn't have formulated it better. Thoughts of hanging ropes usually punctuated his nights out with Blaise. Well, not that much recently though.

"Agree on that." He said. She cocked her head to a side expectantly and Draco tried to find something to talk about. Only questions came to mind and he would never, ever ask them. He already knew what Potter had meant anyway, and clearly, hearing a confirmation would only ruin her, him too probably.

"So?"

"Err … it's not that easy. Especially since your only interest is work." He justified.

"Cause you have other interests?" She asked incredulously.

"Quidditch." He smirked.

"I'm not talking about Quidditch." She scowled. Right, she hated flying. But he couldn't think of anything else.

"It's a hobby Granger. A nice subject of conversation too."

"I used to knit." She countered. Point to her, no way in hell was he talking about knitting.

"Err … Okay no Quidditch. But it's as far as my interests go." She sighed.

"Ask me something then." She pressed after a quick glance at Blaise who was now murmuring profanities in Greengrass' left ear.

"What?"

"I don't know, anything."

"Err …"

She rolled her eyes:

"Look, I … Right, I'll just tell you something about me and then you do the same?" Really? That was all her supposedly brilliant mind could come up with?

"That oddly sounds like some sort of dating game." He grimaced. She seemed to agree, her own face matched his.

"Err … It is not." He cocked an eyebrow at her. It still looked like it. "I just … I feel like I don't know you is all. It's … We're here so …" She suddenly looked so vulnerable it was unsettling. The Gryffindor in her seemed to have spoken something she hadn't been ready to say. Honesty was a villain monster. Was she expecting him to be mean again? Probably. But he wouldn't, and he agreed with her anyway. He'd thought exactly the same since they'd started meeting. Some things hadn't changed, she was still witty, brilliant, and all focused on her work. But she didn't seem as fair and rule following as he'd thought her to be. She wasn't uptight either. What she'd snapped at Blaise, and the way she looked completely unaffected by his flirtatious attitude only confirmed it.

He was the one sticking her with ghosts from a past that had long been behind them.

Why not try to make the better out of this evening then? It wasn't like he'd enjoy bickering with the lovers. At least a conversation with Granger wouldn't cross any boundaries.

"I hate white wine. Gives me head aches." He gave.

Hermione let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. What was wrong with her? Sodding Gryffindor honesty just expressing itself. Astoria could attribute her all the Slytherin traits she wanted, she had definitely not been sorted in the wrong house. Speaking without thinking.

It seemed as though Malfoy agreed though, and thank Merlin he'd decided not to comment. He was now waiting for her to answer apparently. So she did:

"I'm useless in a kitchen. The only thing I know how to cook is eggs." She suddenly remembered Molly's disproving stare as she threw the content of a whole frying pan in the trash. Malfoy chuckled:

"It's no surprise." He smirked jokingly but the memory of Molly's face had tensed her a tad.

"'Cause you know how to cook?" She snapped.

"No, not a clue. Raised by house elves." He didn't even look apologetic. Posh. She chuckled:

"That I knew. Your turn."

"Alright. I … I always take my coffee black. No sweeteners in beverages." She hadn't pictured him to have a sweet tooth anyway. He was too … thin.

"I put honey in my tea when I'm at home. I don't drink coffee." She answered.

"Maybe you should." He smirked.

"Maybe you should look at yourself before mocking me." It was her turn to smirk.

"I'm not surprised you can't recognise handsomeness." He huffed, dismissing her warning by waving a hand in the air pompously.

"Oh but I can …"

"Weasley?" He cut.

"Is perfectly fine looking." She argued, and then muttered more for herself: "For a prat." He chuckled:

"Then I'm a god."

"Right, and my hair's pretty." Too much sarcasm apparently, and mocking her own hair, and Malfoy burst out laughing. Sodding git.

"Sorry but … I mean … you hair …" He half-extolled half-grimaced after only a few seconds of a low laughter she'd never heard before. It had nothing to do with the drunken snigger she'd heard the last couple of times.

"I know." She sighed.

"Good thing you're not delusional." His derisive smile was becoming rather irritating. Maybe they should go back to the game.

"Maybe we should stick to non-physical subjects, shall we?"

"Fair enough. Please, help yourself, you'd be a dear." He said, mimicking with a little too much exactitude the way she held herself at the table.

"Err … prat." He chuckled, but didn't retaliate and she obliged: "I hated divination."

"I've heard. You quit, right?"

"Yes." Strange that he would remember, but then, the whole school had gossipped about it for weeks.

"I always made up a whole bunch of crazy dreams for assignments. Trelawney always fell for them." He reckoned. If Harry and Ron had managed to do so too, it meant that it hadn't been that hard to fool the loony teacher.

"Oh my! You tricked her third eye? But how?" She joked.

"I'm brilliant of course." He explained, chin lifted up in the air. Posh.

"I was right." Whispered Astoria in Blaise's ears.

"They don't even hear us." He confirmed.

"It's just like the other time. They can talk about us …"

"Right, but leave them be. Don't want to break the spell or anything." He murmured. Astoria smirked, her pretty lips stretched with mischief. Oh how he liked that smirk.

"Maybe they'll talk about work." She winked.

"Would be about time." Mumbled Blaise, turning to listen to the two former enemies. They didn't look like enemies at all. Half-turned to the other, glass forgotten in hands, wands out, babbling about whatever scholar subject. Blaise smiled for himself. If Draco still hadn't changed his mind, she would certainly be reason enough for him to. He didn't even need to interfere.

"Want some pie?" And he didn't care anyway. Astoria had her fork full of pie lifted to his face, a mischievous little spark in her eyes, her lips stretched in a smirk that could melt any man.

How they'd ended up debating on the subject of levitating charms taught in first year, Draco had no idea. But he didn't care, what they were currently talking about went beyond Hogwarts teaching and was beyond interesting.

"So, see?" Granger was explaining, a little spark in her dark eyes. "The force with which you push your wand up determines the height of the object. If you switch it slightly left, then you equilibrate. If you were to levitate something heavy, like the armours in Hogwarts for instance, you'd want to switch left a tad more. The movement is key. The incantation is only a magical release. As long as it's pronounced right, muttering it or yelling would have no consequence." The fork she'd been levitating to demonstrate her point went higher, and then she released the charm and lowered it slowly to the table again. Her eyes still glimmered with something he couldn't name, and that dimple he'd seen earlier had made another appearance.

"Exactly, that's why wordless magic can be as strong as when spoken. I once fired an incendio in our common room chimney, a bit carelessly, without thinking, and the flick was so brutal that I burned the rug. Now what I don't understand is why they don't teach that to children. Would have avoided a hundred of Finnegan's explosions in class!" She laughed, making her forgotten drink swirl in the glass she was holding.

"And some of Neville's!" She managed between giggles. Draco surprised himself by laughing too.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we're closing." Draco jumped at the exact same time Granger did. Blaise and Greengrass were watching them, ignoring the wary waitress that had just spoken. Draco's mood shifted instantly at their smirking faces. Granger seemed suddenly very uncomfortable. Draco looked at his watch, it was almost midnight. Their conversation had lasted almost two hours, without interruption.

Hermione watched him realise what time it was. Then, his discomfort matched hers. She stood, ignoring the smirking couple entirely.

"We should go then." She mumbled. The couple sniggered as Malfoy glared, the strange easiness with which he'd spoken with her completely gone. He was back to angry, irritated, Malfoy. She sighed as he stood to follow her, Zabini and Astoria still giggling at their back.

Once they'd left the tiny restaurant, and found themselves alone in Diagon Alley, the couple bid their goodbyes too quickly for it to be perfectly innocent, and after a peck on Hermione's cheek, followed with a not-so-discreet wink, Astoria grabbed Zabini's arm, who had apparently been annoying Malfoy and both disapparated away.

"Wanker." Malfoy growled, looking beyond pissed off. After thought, Hermione found that the situation wasn't that irritating. They'd talked, so what? They should feel good about it not uncomfortable because their friends had a dirty mind. They'd managed a civil conversation. For the first time in their lives.

"Leave them be. If they're stupid enough to think anything is going on between us, it's their issue." He deflated instantly but his tension was still there.

"Right." He muttered. Hermione sighed, she knew that something else was bothering him.

"Still don't want to talk about it?" She asked quietly.

"No." His negation wasn't really convincing, but she decided against pressing the matter. They'd just had their first civil conversation ever, she wasn't about to ruin the new friendliness by meddling in his business. She nodded, and made to take a step to apparate away but somehow couldn't make herself move. The words left her mouth on their own:

"You know that my offer still holds right?" When she'd expected him to frown angrily or dismiss her words, he swallowed. His shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked so vulnerable Hermione had trouble believing it was Draco Malfoy in front of her. His grey eyes were so light, his gaze so wide that she couldn't tear her eyes off of him. The moment passed as instantly as it'd arrived though. His cool bored facade gripped his face again, but his eyes … Merlin.

"I know." He said quietly. Maybe it was the Gryffindor in her, maybe it was something else, but, just before leaving him there, she drew a hand to his arm.

She seemed to realise that she was about to touch him though, and dropped it. Or maybe it was the way he'd jumped when she taken his glass from him earlier, but she let it drop nonetheless. She sighed then, and said in a quiet voice:

"I don't know what this is about Malfoy but …I can see ... I mean ... Never mind, just ... I promise you can trust me if you change your mind."

Her dark brown eyes were on his all along. Draco couldn't look elsewhere. She gave him a small genuine smile then, she had a dimple on each cheek. Then, she retrieved her wand, and without another word, was gone.

Draco was left alone in the deserted Alley. He watched blankly the spot she'd occupied only a moment before for several minutes before moving.

The only word to describe what had just happened was kindness. She was kind. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been kind to him. Blaise was caring, not kind.

Having Hermione Granger of all people, kindly reiterate her offer to help him, with something she knew nothing about was a kind gesture. She'd seen his anger, how, he still had to find out, and she'd offered her help. Again.

He should probably take it.

After what Pansy had said, the collaboration with Flint or Nott was off. He wouldn't open potion shops. He wouldn't have his escape.

How was he supposed to keep going like this now? He was in such a state that even Granger had noticed.

But it would mean asking her. It would mean come to her for help. When she'd practically sacrificed her entire life for others already. First by helping Potter at Hogwarts, then during the war, then, after the war, for them. He was redeemable. He couldn't ask her to help him more.

She'd sacrificed a family for people like him. Undeserving people that had only bullied her for years, or watched her be tortured without so much as lifting a finger.

How could she offer her help, again? To him? Whether he'd taken her side with Potter or not, it would never reach what she'd done for him already.

I'm not unforgiving.

We were kids. And it was unfair.

Forgiveness. Here was why she'd offered her help. Because she'd forgiven him. When he'd never been able too and had kept punishing himself, sulking in his own misery, self-pity as Blaise put it, instead of swallowing back his pride to get help.

Blaise was right, always fucking right. Sodding Zabini family. Sodding Granger. She was right too. Nothing was fair anyway. And it was time he swallowed his pride, stopped punishing himself, and took the offer this woman, this very capable woman, who wouldn't offer if she didn't want to, had twice given him.

He'd have to ask her.

Whether he'd feel like a total unworthy waste of space doing it or not.