Friday, June 13th, 2003.

Part two: Revealing encounter.

When Greengrass finally emerged from the flames she pinched her lips, trying to erase her mirth. Draco was suddenly lost, her previous urgency had vanished.

"Well, I think you should have called her yourself." She smirked at him. What was going on?

"Why? She doesn't …"

"She was only in her panties." She purred. Blaise burst out laughing and Draco decided to busy himself with some papers. Now was not the time to put a mental picture on that sort of comment.

"She'll be there in a minute, with good news she said." Greengrass still explained, apparently taking his busying of his hands for worry.

Draco didn't get any time to comprehend what she'd said though, that a totally dressed Granger appeared in a cloud of smoke and a crashing sound. Her hair was wet. He forgot about the papers.

"You could have told me it was that bitch Draco!" She exclaimed angrily. Draco? She'd called him Draco? Shit what had she just said?

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me it was Pansy?" She roared, taking a step to him, her wet hair oddly flat.

"Because it's not what …"

"Oh, so she didn't tell Theodore Nott about the oath then?" She cut.

"How do you know?" He gasped.

"I've had the honour of meeting her. I wrote." No wonder she was so pissed off then. What had that bitch done now?

"Wh … What happened?" He asked, a whole new wave of worry crashing on him. What had that bitch done? Was it …Wait. Granger was grinning. No, she was smirking with so much mirth it was … unsettling. What the hell was going on?

"The bitch thought she could insult me." She chuckled as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Draco had to admit that doing it to her face probably was. "Too bad she's too stupid to keep her mouth shut though. Nott was not happy with her." Well, he'd shaken Pansy for nothing, Granger definitely didn't need him to defend her. At all. But Pansy hadn't listened to him. If he ever saw her again … Wait maybe Granger had taken care of her.

"What did you do?" He asked, not even worried any more. Whatever she'd done, he knew it was good.

"I disarmed them, stole their wands, and threatened to send everyone in Azkaban without trials. They should stop the blackmail soon now. Oh, and of course keep their mouths shut." She paused, and he almost jumped in relief, but then she added, with a mischievous smirk that could rival Blaise's: "I might have also slipped in an implicit death threat … But I can't be sure, I was really pissed off."

Draco couldn't believe his ears, a death threat on his behalf? It was ... Well, exactly what he'd done too. But still, from Granger? No, it couldn't be. Had he even understood all she'd said?

"Are you serious?" He asked to get confirmation.

"Yes, and it's the most satisfying thing I've done in years." She smiled at him then, a foreign and cocky smile that told him she could see his surprise. He still managed to push out a :"Fuck."

"And you're a prat by the way." That cut his smile. Her mood had shifted in the space of a few seconds.

"What?" Was she lunatic or something?

"What?" She mimicked angrily, "Why didn't you tell me?" Ah, damn. "I could have had the whole department on them everyday! I could have pressured them and avoided all this!"

"Err … I … I didn't thought you'd …"

"What? Keep my mouth shut?" The glare she gave him had a double entendre Draco realised was just for him. Of course she would have kept her mouth shut. "Those bastards were going to use you for Merlin's sake!"

"I didn't …" Wait, what did she care? "Sorry." He added quickly at her glare.

"You're a prat." She still spat.

"A stubborn prat." Added Blaise.

"Exactly!" She pushed.

"Em. Maybe we should have a drink. I know the oath is not broken or anything but … I mean, there's time now." Cut Greengrass with first, an uneasy smile, and second, a warning glare to Granger. The wet-haired angry witch sighed and deflated instantly:

"Right, right. I guess I'm a bit … Sorry Malfoy it's just … That bitch!" Malfoy, he was back to Malfoy. Good. Good?

"She has that effect on people yes." Confirmed Blaise. Draco watched her calm down slowly, and accept the glass of wine Blaise handed her with a tight smile, her still damp hair dropping on her shoulders. He couldn't believed what had just happened.

Astoria and Blaise settled on the couch and she took one of the armchairs. Draco only sat on the other armchair when he'd swept away the mess with a switch of his wand, still oddly confused. It landed messily on the buffet, under Granger's small mocking smile. He'd have to ask her about her charms someday. When he finally decided it was safe to speak since the couple was already bickering, Granger beat him to it:

"I meant it when I said you could trust me, you know that, right?"

"Yes." He gulped.

Hermione's anger had passed and she'd realised it hadn't been his fault he hadn't trusted her. "I'm so sorry." she said.

"Why? I am a stubborn prat." He scowled. He looked strangely out of sorts.

"Oh that you are." She smirked half-heartedly. "But … It was my idea …I mean … Nott, Flint I'm …"

"You didn't know." He cut, regaining some sort of composure. "And I told Pansy about the oath."

"Not the wisest move I admit, but still I …"

"It's not your fault Granger." He snapped. "If nothing you saved my arse so don't apologise." Anger, that was familiar. Hermione sighed and decided against arguing. She was about to drop the subject when he said, his eyes on his knuckles:

"Thank you."

"You'll thank me when the oath is broken." She said. "I've been looking through the Ministry's resources, maybe I'll find something in there."

He lifted his eyes to her: "Resources?"

"The archives, the library, I'm trying to find a pretext to go down to Mysteries. I'm certain they have a few very interesting books that might help."

"Why Mysteries?" He asked with curiosity.

"I … It's just a theory, but maybe I could find a way to break the oath …"

"Isn't that what you've been working on?"

"The oath Malfoy. Break it entirely, not just free you from it."

"I don't know if that's possible. I mean I've done my researches and …" He said, showing the messy pile of books he'd made just before, sighing. Hermione would have to show him a couple of charms someday. She answered, trying to be convincing:

"It could be. I mean … It's magic. Layers and layers of magic. If I could study it properly, I'm certain I could at least recognise those layers and then I could start working on deconstructing the magic."

"Layer by layer." He repeated thoughtfully. Then his eyes widened : "That's actually …"

"Clever?" She cut with a small smile.

"Don't push." He frowned but she could see the start of a smile on his mouth. "You'd need to understand how the oath has been cast first though …"

"There aren't so many ways to perform blo …"

"Oh sweet Merlin!" Astoria exclaimed, cutting short their conversation. Apparently snogging and holding a glass of wine didn't go well together. The front of her salmon blouse was covered in red wine. Blaise was smirking his face off though. Hermione decided she didn't want to know why he'd done that.

"Come I'll transfigure something you can wear." Well, apparently she had to know. Astoria sighed and eyed her ruined blouse with some sort of grief.

"Okay." She said and followed Blaise out of the room. Hermione wondered if it'd been a Witchety blouse. If it were the case, the grief made sense.

"You were saying?" Malfoy had a strange disgusted frown on his face. Apparently he'd guessed what that had been about too. No mental pictures, Hermione told herself.

"Err … that, yes, that it's just a theory for now. I really need to access Mysteries to check first." She continued where she'd thought she'd left the conversation.

"Don't kill yourself over it Granger …" Hermione decided to ignore that comment:

"Shame I can't access the Black's library any more. I could call Minerva though. The restricted section had a book about Horcruxes, there's probably something there …"

"You still see McGonagall?" He frowned.

"I used to. Order's parties and all, but I haven't gone in a while." Almost a year she thought.

"The order has parties?" Malfoy looked half-disgusted, half-revolted with the idea. It was the general feeling Hermione had had every time she'd gone to one of those parties.

"At the Burrow or Grimmaud but I'm not invited there any more." She explained.

"Oh. Sorry …" He grimaced awkwardly, he was not sorry. Hermione snorted:

"Don't be. It's always been kind of a chore. Molly's always cooking and the girls always help. I … err … always got disproving glares and nasty comments about my … ability to cook. Among other apparently indispensable household skills." She felt like she'd been rambling until he screwed his face in a grave frown and said, in all seriousness:

"Well, it is important to know how to clean a frying pan." Hermione had a little chuckle that made his frown drop.

"To knit ugly sweaters too." She added. He chuckled and faked an outraged expression, he wasn't so good of an actor for a Slytherin.

"What? Miss Granger beaver doesn't like her red and gold woollen atrocity?" She almost burst out laughing, but decided to tell a untold truth before:

"They itch." She scowled. They both laughed a minute at that.

"Didn't you use to knit? Why don't you make a whole batch of non itchy atrocities to show Molly Weasley your … good household skills?" He grimaced at her name. Hermione didn't find a thing to say to that, she felt the same these days.

"No, that would be petty." She answered. He cocked an unconvinced eyebrow at her. "I'm not a good knitter either." She justified. "I can do socks and ugly hats but that's about it."

"Not a good Weasley spouse then." He shook his head, and asked: "Do you even have an apron?"

Her answer would have pissed Molly off for sure: "I think I own napkins." She shrugged, faking a guilty grimace.

He chuckled and refilled her glass:

"Stick to the wine then. Aprons are for peasants anyway." He dismissed, lifting his nose up in the air. How he saw what he was pouring in the glass, she had no idea.

"Cause you're the upper class I assume?"

"Exactly. I wouldn't make out the difference between flour and sugar and I don't intend to find out any time soon." He obviously lied.

"Posh." She snapped.

"No, upper class Granger." He articulated as if she were some sort of moron.

"Posh." She pushed.

"Drink your wine. Weasley." He snapped with a smirk.

"Weas …" She cut herself abruptly, Malfoy using that name as an insult wasn't something new. Who she'd forgotten about though … "Shit George." She muttered.

"Oh so that's his name. You've seen him?" Blaise asked from behind the couch, he came around it and sat back on it.

"I was about to when I saw that bitch!" Exclaimed Hermione. Another thing Pansy sodding Parkinson was responsible for!

"Oh. You didn't then?" Blaise asked.

"No. How did you meet him by the way?"

"Err …" He grimaced as if reluctant to tell her. He still did: "I passed the shop and Weaslette glared at me. When I asked if she'd never seen a good-looking man he seemed to appreciate the joke."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her incredulity making her voice high.

"They didn't seem to be in good terms." He explained, as Astoria finally joined them back, wearing a brand new transfigured black blouse.

"I've seen them argue too once." Added Malfoy, as Astoria scowled at her new blouse, but still sat under Blaise's extended arm. Hermione returned to Malfoy quickly:

"Really?" She repeated.

"Yes." He answered, frowning.

"Oh. I should write to him." Hermione wondered why that had sounded more like a question. It was Astoria who answered:

"Yes do that." Blaise nodded in silent agreement but Malfoy seemed to disagree. She watched him questioningly and he scowled:

"I don't like him."

"Why?"

"Cause he beat the shit out of me once?"

"You ..."

"I was a part. Right." He cut angrily. "But a younger and alone prat. And Potter and he jumped on me, broke my nose and a few ribs."

"Oh. I ..."

"Didn't remember it that way?" He asked. Hermione knew his anger wasn't directed at her but still, it stung.

"No. I remember you insulted Ron's family. You talked about Harry's mother ..." She tried to justify.

"I didn't." He retorted but then seemed to think.

"You did." She said softly. She didn't want to rile him up more over something that had happened years ago, in school.

"I did." He eventually muttered. "I was a shite. I guess I deserved the beating then." The last words had been practically snapped. Hermione didn't like that tone.

"I never said that." She countered. "I was the first to lecture them when they came back to the tower."

"Really?" He seemed more than sceptical.

"Yes." She affirmed, not lowering her gaze from his. His eyes were a cloudy grey that night. He was the first one to break eye contact.

"Oh." He said, then: "I didn't know."

"Yes well, it's not like I would have told you."

"Err …" He grimaced.

"No, people would have thought you had a crush on him." When Hermione didn't find anything to say to that, Blaise added: "Maybe you did …"

"You're aware I punched him in third year, right?" She retorted.

"Some people like it punchy …" Blaise smirked.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard." Hermione concluded, or hoped she concluded. She gave Malfoy a side glance, and he was smiling at her. Oh, there'd been another weirdest thing a week before. He remembered apparently. She gave him a crooked smile in answer.

"What's that?" Asked Blaise, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Astoria's grin made Malfoy's smile morph into a scowl.

"Alright let's change the subject." Hermione tried.

"Be a dear." Malfoy agreed.

"Right. Quidditch maybe?" She offered. He took the hint quickly and started asking Blaise about Ginny's team. Apparently she was an indispensable member and thank Merlin, it was enough to distract Blaise.

After ten minutes though, Hermione decided she shouldn't have offered. She only hummed and nodded from time to time and soon, Astoria was sighing.

They were both saved by Tiny. The owl had reached the kitchen window. Hermione told Blaise she'd take care of it, and both men resumed talking. She eyed Astoria, and the pretty witch stood, refilled their glasses, and followed Hermione to the kitchen.

Once Tiny was perched on the kitchen counter, Hermione petting its head slowly, both women sat on the stools of Blaise's immaculate kitchen and sipped at their drinks, eyeing from the corner of their eyes the men, apparently deeply engrossed in their conversation.

"So? Pansy Parkinson?" Smirked Astoria. Hermione recognised the curiosity in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Well, any other juicy detail you kept for yourself?" Hermione blinked, and decided she could feed the woman's need for gossip. They were friends after all.

"Nott smacked her across the face. I … I left her there, I didn't even try to warn him not to be violent."

"Good. If I'd known about all this I'd have done much worse than just smack her." Hermione noted for herself to never be on the wrong side of Astoria's wrath.

"They didn't tell you either?" She asked, knowing already the answer but trying to understand Astoria's sudden ire better.

"No. Men and their sodding pride." She growled.

"Right. It should stop now anyway."

"Yes, but … I mean, I dated Marcus for a long time I could have … I don't know what, but I know I would have thought of something if he'd told me."

"And I could have had the whole department on their arses and he knew it." Hermione added.

"Prat." She scowled and Hermione hummed in agreement.

"I'll take care of the paperwork this week so you can work on the oath between court." Astoria offered when her frown decreased at bit. She was still watching the discussing men thoughtfully.

"You don't have to … I can …" Hermione started to argue.

"It's not that big a deal Hermione. I can do it by myself. And Tracey's ready to help."

"I …" Astoria gave her a warning look then. "Thanks." Hermione eventually surrendered.

"Welcome." They went back to their glasses for a moment.

"I sent you the address for tomorrow by the way. I'll wait for you inside. It's a bit of a shark event I'd rather keep an eye on you."

"Me?"

"Draco mostly."

"Why?" Hermione startled.

"He's not been to any of those events since the war and … I mean my family never associated with death eaters or anything. He might get a few looks."

"Oh." Right, Hermione had forgotten about his reputation.

"Yeah well, he'll be in good hands. It'd do him good to mingle a bit. Blaise is all he's got."

"Mm." Right, another thing she'd forgotten about.

"Plus, with the oath and everything …" Damn, did it ever end?

"I'll find something you know?"

"Oh I know." Astoria dismissed. Her complete trust in Hermione warmed her heart. Still, Astoria's worry for Malfoy was … unexpected.

"I didn't know you cared this much for him."

"He's Blaise's best friend and I care a great deal about Blaise so … Besides he's fun when he's in a good mood." Indeed, he was.

"Like tonight?" Hermione asked, turning her gaze to the men.

"Like tonight. Or last Friday." Astoria smirked.

"Err …"

"Don't pretend you didn't have a good time Hermione." She pushed.

"I'm not pretending anything. I had a good time. Which you both ruined by making assumptions."

"Oh come on. You spent two hours …"

"Right. We got along. Which is a big big step already. I don't know if you'd noticed but we weren't the best of friends before and …"

"It was more than getting along …"

Hermione felt the need to justify with no apparent reason: "Whatever. Think whatever you want. We talked and if you'd kept your fork out of Blaise's mouth we wouldn't have had to ignore the both of you."

"I only had one slice of pie Hermione. It didn't last …"

"That's it." She cut. "Stop that or I'm going home." Her warning had strictly no effect.

"Oh I get it!" Astoria managed to extol quietly. "There's someone else!" She grinned as if she'd discovered another of Hermione's supposed secrets.

"No there's not."

"Confess! If you're not in for pretty pretty Malfoy there has to be someone else!"

"Pretty … Merlin what's wrong with you?"

"I bet it's McMillan!"

Hermione almost gagged:

"Godric's beard I'd rather have Malfoy." Shit. "Oh god I hate you." Astoria burst out laughing. "I didn't mean it like that! You're such a … such a Slytherin! Manipulate me into saying that! Stop giggling!" She reprimanded a bit loudly.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked from the living-room, and of course both men were watching them now.

"NOTHING!" Hermione spat angrily, elbowing Astoria in the ribs. The witch didn't calm down.

"Doesn't look like nothing." Blaise was starting to smirk and Hermione glared at Astoria. She finally stopped laughing to answer her boyfriend:

"Girl's talk Blaise."

"Err …" He grimaced and turned back to a frowning Malfoy. They started talking again after exchanging a confused shrug.

"Are you mad?" Astoria asked softly after a moment of silent drinking.

"No. You got me good."

"Yes. I know you didn't mean it that way. I was just messing with you."

"You were definitely not sorted wrong. There's no doubt." Hermione pouted moodily. She'd been tricked again!

"Nope. And you're definitely a Gryffindor. A Slytherin would have seen through the McMillan thing right away."

"Err … he is … so …" Hermione's stutter couldn't express how repulsed she felt at the thought of dating Ernie pompous McMillan.

"Err …" Astoria's ugly grimace either. Although she seemed to understand.

"Yes." Hermione agreed. They didn't need words for that.

"Nothing like Malfoy."

"Sure." Hermione almost slapped herself. "Oh my god." Astoria chuckled:

"Oh come on. You can at least give me that. He is handsome. It's a fact. Recognising it doesn't mean anything."

"Err …" Hermione assessed the concerned blond man then. She'd looked at him before. She'd noticed his clenched jaw, his tired eyes, the way he stiffly held himself. His fingers. His ties.

"How do you find Blaise?" Continued Astoria. Hermione frowned, and answered without even thinking:

"Handsome."

Astoria smirked: "And it doesn't mean anything, right? Or do I need to kick your arse?"

"Err. Alright. It's just …"

"What?"

Hermione turned back to the talking men before answering: "Well I've never looked at him like that."

"Like what? A man?"

"Err … no. Like, not the prat I knew before." And he was not that prat any more even if she'd called him so a moment before. He was talking quietly, his interest only betrayed by the movement of his hands as he explained something to Blaise. He definitely had the fingers of a pianist.

"There's a lot of pretty prats you know." Murmured Astoria. She was watching both men too, although she was hiding it behind her glass. Hermione lifted hers and considered what Astoria had just told her. Malfoy was … not the prat she'd known before.

He was smart, witty, complicated. Interesting. Why had she never even considered the physical aspect of him? It felt ludicrous given their history. Besides, she'd never been interested in looks. Which was why she'd refused to properly date Victor Krum for instance, he'd been pretty, oh-so-pretty, but as dumb as his feet.

Now that Astoria had mentioned it though, she couldn't just let it go.

She was so used to the pointy chin and nose, to the ashen blond hair and the mocking smirk that she'd never tried to see past it.

What she saw now though, was a totally different picture.

He held himself impeccably right in the armchair. He'd removed his tie, his collar was open, and a small patch of alabaster skin showed. Seeing the way his shirt held, he was lean. He was also tall, his extended legs reached the coffee table in front of him. His hair was shorter, and his fringe fell on his forehead as if he'd spent his day pulling at it. His face wasn't as pointy as she remembered it had once been, and she could guess the shadow of ashen facial hair around his chin. He pleated his eyes just then, and even though she couldn't see them, she remembered the way they'd looked, the way they changed shade sometimes. The way she hadn't been able to look away from them.

He was something.

He wasn't a traditionally handsome man, no. But there was something about him. Something sombre, and torn, contrasting sharply with his fair appearance, something enthralling that she'd noticed before, but decided to ignore. Something that definitely wasn't unpleasant to look at.

"So?" Pressed Astoria. Hermione sighed, turning away from the man. Now she would never unsee it.

"I guess he is a pretty prat." She granted.

"Yes. Definitely." Astoria hid her smirk in her glass and Hermione started to feel like she'd been played again. Before she could voice it, the sly witch asked:

"Have you tried the dress on?"

"No."

"Of course. Look, in case it doesn't fit I'll leave something on my couch. I'll already be at my parent's but you can floo to my place in the morning."

"Oh, well, thank you."

"Welcome." Astoria winked mischievously. Hermione decided she would wear the dress she'd bought, whether it fit, or not.

The saviour of the day, none other than Granger, followed Astoria back to the living after their supposed girl talk. Blaise couldn't help his smirk:

"Finished talking about us already?" Judging by the way Granger became suddenly very occupied with a button of her black blouse and by the smug smile Astoria gave him, he'd hit right.

Draco seemed to be the only one who didn't notice a thing. Granger muttered that she'd go home then, and bid them good night, until the next day.

Blaise and Astoria watched Draco stand up and take the few steps to the fireplace with her. He thanked her again, which she dismissed with a 'my pleasure to kick Parkinson's arse' and Astoria winked at Blaise.

He gave her a questioning eye as Granger was throwing floo powder in the earth and Draco had his back to them. She stepped closer to him and murmured:

"I had to force it out of her, but she finds him pretty."

That smirk. Salazar how he loved that smirk.

A/N: I'll be late to publish next week, so I thought I'd give you this chapter now. I hope the ones of you who were worried about the Dramione part of this story can finally see that it's coming. Slowly, painfully, but coming nonetheless.
Thanks you all for the reviews.
Lucie.