Saturday, June 14th, 2003.

Part two: Parting ways as inverted couples.

Draco stepped even further away from his 'date' when her snooty little cousin – who had had the guts to sniff scornfully at him – was promptly chased away by none other than Daphne.

Not that he had anything particular against the incredibly superficial woman, but the looks he kept receiving were unpleasant enough that he didn't need to bear with girl's talks too.

He quickly forgot about Daphne's rattling on about whatever though, as he caught sight of Granger, apparently struggling to get rid of Peregrine Derrick. He didn't even consider helping her, Derrick was harmless and … well … It was immensely funny to see her struggle as the leech even grabbed her shoulder. He hoped she hexed him.

She didn't, and the fun only lasted until Blaise came to her rescue, again.

When Draco returned his attention to Astoria, the opposite sisters started arguing and he decided that it was time to get a drink.

He discreetly sidestepped away from the siblings and went back to the buffet tables. The only drinkable beverage he found was champagne, and thank Salazar because if they'd served firewhiskey he'd probably have drunk himself to death.

Trying to muster nasty smirks convincing enough to make old chums look away wasn't that amusing. Neither that effective.

He found himself looking for the only person who didn't look at him like he was an old cursed sock, and didn't annoy him any time she could. Or more for the only green dress in the crowd.

That bloody dress.

If he were entirely honest with himself though, the dress wasn't really at fault there. On reflection, he'd already noticed Granger's dimples and big brown eyes, and small hands before. He'd just chosen to ignore it, which had been a tad easier when she'd been hidden under black tents for clothes.

He only had to go back to pretend he didn't see her, was all.

Like she'd ever notice anything physical about him. Preposterous.

Plus, it unexpectedly seemed as though they managed to get along just fine, he'd better not ruin the whole thing by gawping at her like a moron or get distracted by assets she rarely even bothered to enhance or show.

Such a woman didn't need looks though, a man only needed to talk to her to be blown.

Woah. Where had that come from?

Ah, right. Deconstructing the magic. Brilliant.

So, he had to go back to pretend he wasn't blown by her brains and just ignore the rest. It wasn't like he really cared anyway, right?

She was nowhere in sight though, neither was Blaise. Maybe they'd gone back to Astoria.

It took Draco a great amount of self-control not to start hexing people on his way back to where he'd left the Greengrass sisters earlier. Being judged by people who didn't even know him was terribly frustrating. Especially when those people didn't have the guts to say anything and just glared or ducked away from him.

He didn't have a disease for Salazar's sake.

Draco realised that even if he'd dreaded Ministry events, at least there, the hatred had been justified – and reciprocal. No one there had ever been disrespectful without reason either. Plus, the bunch of Gryffindors were not the kind to talk behind his back, if they had something to say, they just said it.

He finally caught sight of Blaise but stopped in his tracks instantly. He was arguing with Astoria. Quietly, discreetly, but there was no doubts.

Draco waited for it to end from afar, but his curiosity quickly got the better of him. He eventually took a few steps closer, and with one word from the witch was reminded about Blaise's little affair with the more irritating of the two sisters. He went back away thinking it was a shame things chose that moment to backfire. It was the first time Draco could reckon Blaise being serious about a woman. But just like Draco had warned him, it was blowing up in his face.

Blaise should have been able to keep it in his pants for once. Sisters, not the wisest move.

To add to Blaise's ordeal, Mr Greengrass passed Draco, shooting him a suspicious glare, and walked straight to the arguing couple.

Draco winced for him, but intervening might do everything but help Blaise's case, at best he'd get kicked out by the host. So he stepped away and started searching the crowd for Granger again.

She had to be either alone, either trapped with another guest. He eventually caught sight of her not far away from them, but she was arguing too. And with someone she liked about as much as he did Pansy.

Draco decided just at that moment that he'd never set foot in a charity event, ever, again.

Rita Skeeter, her too red lips pursued in a contemptuous sneer, was glaring daggers at Granger, and obviously the green-dressed witch wasn't enjoying the company at all. Draco didn't think twice before going their way. He was certain he'd never seen Granger this angry before. She was turning red.

"You watch your tone Rita. I am not insulting." She spat, her words ice. The hell to the honeyed tone she'd used with her receptionist.

"Oh but I do as I please. Not being able to publish what I would like, doesn't mean I have to be pleasant to you. It's a shame really. If it weren't for Potter, the publication would have finally shown people who you truly are. Certainly not the goody-two-shoes you pretend to be."

"I had no idea you knew me this well Rita." The honeyed tone was back. Draco wondered whether it was a good sign. "I should be worried such a vile woman thinks so little of me. But see, I am not." Draco cringed. Not a good sign. She was glowering in ire, and another curl had escaped her hairdo. He stepped even closer until he was just at Rita's back.

"You have a cold heart miss Granger, a cruel cold heart. I doubt you could ever feel love. I doubt you ever felt anything for that poor man you abused and broke to the point of being insane."

"I think that's quite enough." He spat, not able to control himself apparently. Granger snapped her mouth close, and shot him a curious look as Skeeter turned a disdainful sneer to him.

"Mr Malfoy, I see." She turned back to Granger then: "Swapping sides. See what I meant? No loyalty. Nothing. A cold heart."

"A cold heart? Granger? Do you even know her?" He hissed, his anger at the old bint reaching a level he'd rather not reach in public.

"I do Mr Malfoy, better than you do." She strode away, leaving Draco obligated to take a few deep breath before turning back to Granger. He stopped as something flashed in her big brown eyes. She was upset, and not so good at hiding it.

"What was that bitch on about?" He asked, trying to keep the words soft and failing miserably.

"Leave it, she's all words." She said in a trembling voice.

"Brutal words." Draco tried. She finally looked at him in the eyes. They shone.

"Like I care what she thinks of me." Hermione fumed challengingly but truth was, she did care. The woman had told her she'd used and broken Ron. She'd called her cruel and even though Hermione had had this debate with herself a million times before filling the divorce papers, she couldn't help the stinging feeling at being told again. She hadn't abandoned Ron to make him suffer. She had done it to free herself from a miserable marriage. From a toxic relationship that had made them both miserable. She hadn't used him, never, and she never would, whatever little war was going on between them. That bitch even had the guts to judge him while taking his side. He was certainly delusional but he wasn't insane.

Right, and he was a sodding prat! What had he said in that interview that made Rita so angry she couldn't publish it? It had to be subtle, something not really bad. Something true?

A glass was pushed in her right hand, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, thanks."

Draco shrugged and turned his eyes to his left: "Let's find our … Err … dates." He grimaced. "And then fuck off this place."

She followed him without arguing. Apparently he'd been enjoying himself as much as she.

They rounded the ball room, twice, and it seemed as though his presence kept away the small talks. They were only getting looks now. Disapproving glares to be exact. Hermione started to feel rather irritated with the whole charity thing and decided to walk just beside Draco. Let's see if anyone had the guts to comment.

Apparently not, and her sudden proximity only made him frown.

Their dates were nowhere in sight though. After fifteen minutes, Hermione just needed air, and since they couldn't leave without at least warning Blaise or Astoria, she showed Draco the deserted balcony at the far end of the room, and he nodded before following her there.

He closed the glass doors after them and she took in the view of the opulent and gorgeous gardens, while he propped his elbows on the banister, lowering his eyes to the grounds under them. His gaze stilled after a few seconds and Hermione forgot about the view. He was looking blandly into nothing and, even though his face remained as set in stone, his whole posture told a different story.

She could see the tension in his shoulders from the double doors, as well as how tightly he clenched his jaw. She also couldn't help but notice how tall he was again. Pretty prat. She'd been right, she'd never unsee it now. Damned Astoria.

She shook her head and went to lean against the banister next to him, her back to the gardens, and stared at the moving gowns in the ballroom.

He didn't move, neither spoke, he just looked as usual, tensed, edging desperate. Maybe he was tired of getting looks. Or maybe it was the oath as Astoria had suggested. It couldn't be the blackmail now. Although they still had to hear from Nott. She found herself asking:

"Are you okay?" He seemed to be pulled out of a trance for a short second, and then muttered:

"I'm trying to decide when to kick Blaise. He whined endlessly that he didn't want to come here alone and now he's vanished."

"I think Astoria will kick his arse just enough. You knew about Daphne?"

"Err … Yes." He said pulling a face.

"Not very wise of him …" Hermione frowned disapprovingly. Draco chuckled softly at her face but didn't contradict her, he only answered a small "Sure." and began looking at nothing in front of him again.

Hermione decided that if even Blaise's stupidity didn't pull a reaction out of him, she could push the subject: "I wasn't asking about that though."

"I know." He sighed, and Hermione noticed the way his mouth remained open a fraction of a second, as if he'd hesitated to tell her something. She kept her mouth shut, but her eyes on him, and waited. He was wearing his blank face again and she thought it wiser not to push him further. She'd opened the conversation, if he didn't want to talk, he could remain silent. At least he knew she'd listen.

They spent a moment like that, him staring at nothing, her waiting. Eventually, he spoke, but so quietly she had to prick her ears:

"I don't like to whine." His eyes didn't waver from the grounds.

"Whine?" She wondered. He turned his blank gaze to her. He seemed to assess her a few seconds where she tried to look expectant. He blinked a few times, frowned and returned his gaze to his hands. Whatever realisation he'd come to, it made him speak. So long as it didn't upset him further, Hermione didn't care what it was. He sighed:

"I've got no real reason to feel bad or complain Granger. I should consider myself lucky I have everything I need. I've got money and a job, some are less lucky."

"But you don't." She stated, hoping he'd hear the implicit 'why'.

"I should." He wouldn't make it easy apparently.

"Why don't you then?" She pushed in a small voice.

"Because. It's … I hate it. All of it, Granger. Not just the job, it's this whole company. What it means, what it does. I'm still recasting it, you know? It's been years and I still find things …" He paused, and his mask slipped away as he clenched his fists, his gaze darkening on the grounds. After another moment of staring at the horizon, while Hermione kept her eyes on him, trying to show she would listen, he finally told her how he felt:

"When I was given heads, it had my father's palms all over the place. In the partnerships, the employees, the products sold, even in the building. I had to change the furniture. It was even in the tapestries. Dark artifacts all over the place, evil paintings that made reports to other death eaters … Everything was polluted… I had to change everything. I … I don't even care for trade markets and office supplies, or whatever. And those bastards keep writing, and asking for partnerships and … and I have to. I can't just go. And even now that it's approximately clean I still get judged and …" He paused, and Hermione realised that he hadn't been insensible to the looks he'd received all afternoon. He clenched his jaw the more and she winced for him. His stare became so dark she had to say something.

She'd fought with Mrs Zabini to avoid this sort of situations. She'd fought hard, and still, she hadn't been able to control everything. She'd helped but evidently it hadn't been enough. Regulate the companies hadn't changed the public opinion. It must have been so terribly hard to live through all that, right after a war in which he'd been on the loosing side. Even though he'd been pardoned, people had never considered him as the victim he'd been.

People were judgemental pricks she decided.

She was about to tell him exactly that when he said, taking a deep breath and his mask slipping back up:

"I should just consider myself lucky I didn't end up in the street being spat at by people." The bout of rage she felt at those words she couldn't explain. Lucky?

"Is that how low you think of yourself?" She blurted. He blinked.

"Well, you know who I am Granger, what I've done …"

"Are you bloody serious?" She snapped angrily. "That's …"

"I hurt people." He cut in a grave tone, not meeting her eyes.

"So did I." She countered, and it was true.

"Not like that …" He started, apparently not able to finish his sentence. He'd turned his gaze to her elbow then, and Hermione caught the stony grey. The almost black induced by anger was gone and he was back to desperate, overwrought.

That sodding oath. He hadn't moved on from the war. How would he have? He was still trapped. Hermione suddenly felt livid. Lucius Malfoy was a lucky man. If she'd had the opportunity to lay hands on him … And those upper-class stashed bastards! Who the hell did they think they were to judge him? She tried to calm down before proving him wrong. Because he was wrong!

"You were a kid," She gave. "With that monster living in your house. Whatever you did anyway, it's well in the past. The fact that people are still judgemental pricks doesn't mean they're right! Wait I'm not finished!" She snapped as he opened his mouth, obviously to contradict her. She kept going: "And now? You have to bear with that rotten company you're trapped in by this loathsome bullshit paper, that even dictates who you should marry, and how you should raise your child, and how you should put a tremendous burden on his shoulders as soon as he's of age. I don't see how that makes you a man people spit on. Quite the opposite actually."

"Wh … You do realised I willingly signed it, right?" He frowned.

The words escaped her mouth then: "You trusted your father. Everyone should be able to trust their father."

He swallowed at that, pinched his lips and decided he still didn't agree:

"Still. I was old enough to know what I was doing." He turned away from her then. He was back to angry, and wasn't even trying to hide it any more. Hermione had known his father would be a delicate subject. She should have let him talk. She was an idiot. She tried to lighten the mood and said the first thing that came to mind:

"Yeah right and I wasn't a know-it-all." His eyes widened in surprise and he snorted, but she could guess the start of a smile lift the corners of his mouth. He watched her a few seconds, the smile not really there, before shaking his head:

"Too stubborn for your own good."

"Means a lot coming from you." She countered easily. He only grimaced in answer as she felt her mouth lift in an ugly smirk.

"I'm always right anyway, so quit arguing." She tried.

He considered her a second then, his grey eyes pleating and his lips wrinkling. She thought he was trying to repress a smile. So, she smiled and he smiled back. A genuine smile. She thought she'd never seen him smile for real before. He never smiled.

"I'll break that thing." She said.

"I know." She hadn't expected that and her surprise must have shown on her face because he said: "You got rid of my blackmailer even before he asked for a thing." As if it justified his sudden trust in her.

"It was sheer luck. If I hadn't crossed Pansy ..." She started.

"Still. You did." He cut, lifting a palm in the air. He was still smiling.

"I did." She smirked and he smiled the more. Hermione quickly returned her gaze to the ball room. That smile. Draco Malfoy trusted her. She'd been determined to help him from the start anyway but then … it went beyond that.

She had to prioritise. Mysteries first. She'd call Minerva first thing Monday morning too. Hogwarts could be part of the solution and it was more accessible.

"How are you?" She snapped out of her planning and answered out of reflex:

"Good. Why?"

"What was that really about with Rita?" He asked with a frown. His face was otherwise wholly guarded. She'd come to recognise that it meant he was hiding behind it. He'd talked after all, so she decided to be honest:

"Ron's interview."

"Oh." As he lowered a suddenly angry gaze to his hands Hermione was reminded that he knew. He knew what had happened with Ron and his sudden ire was confusing. It would have made sense with Astoria, probably even Blaise if any of them had known, but Malfoy?

Were they friends too?

Hermione considered their 'relationship' a moment and found herself suddenly feeling very awkward, and totally disinterested in what that horrible blond woman had had to say.

They'd shared things, very personal things, outside anything related to his oath, hadn't they? They'd talked, more than just acquaintances would have, they'd laughed, helped and defended each other without any of them asking for anything in return.

The fire she'd just felt, this will to help, she'd only felt it once in her entire life and it had been during the war. It could only mean one thing.

Hermione was friends with Draco Malfoy.

It would take more than torture to make her confess that aloud, and she could bet both her hands that he would never say such a thing either, but … It was true nonetheless.

When had that happened? In the course of what? A couple of weeks?

She frowned and counted on her fingers, attracting an awkward look from the concerned ashen blond man. They'd started oddly meeting, at first, a month or so before. Around commemoration.

It had taken a month and a fortnight, a couple of drinks, and a few talks to crush a decade of tumultuous history.

And to be honest – only in the privacy of her mind though – she was glad.

She lifted her gaze to him and met his eyes. He was still frowning, watching her with a confusion that said she'd gone mad, his anger gone.

"What's going on in that bushy head of yours?" He wondered aloud, his cloudy irises going from her face to her hands.

"I was just thinking that …"

After thinking for the longest minutes of his life that he'd lost her, as he'd argued with Astoria, all that over her sodding stupid sister he hadn't even enjoyed the company of, Blaise had realised how much she counted. He'd practically begged at her feet just as Hermione had suggested. He'd even confessed having seen Sherry once before they'd called it official, and sworn that since then he'd had no one. She'd been too upset over this though.

He'd been too upset over this too and had almost confessed something he hadn't even told himself, something that scared the crap out of him a lot more than anything else.

But then, her father had come to them. Mr Greengrass didn't look so impeccable when he was displeased. He'd started reprimanding them for making a scene, and things had gone wrong.

He'd told his daughter that her choice in acquaintances was 'poor' and that she was a shame. Blaise had felt himself on the verge to curse the old man.

But then, he'd listened to a very revolted Astoria tell her own father that whatever he thought about her acquaintances, he could stuff somewhere someone should never mention to their father. Of course some of the guests had heard.

And, as Mr Greengrass' reaction to the insubordination and insolence of his daughter, had been to grab her wrist, Blaise had jumped in front of her, warning the man not to touch his girlfriend.

Thus confessing their relationship to the patriarch and a good dozen of guests.

The disgusting chivalry had had a few benefits though. Astoria's father had stormed off in such a bout of anger he'd practically shoved off his path a guest or two, and Astoria had suddenly been very, very quiet. And then, very, very forgiving.

He'd realised as she'd practically jumped on him in the corridor that he didn't give a damn about the consequences of announcing a relationship to a very conservative father, or to the entire wizarding community for that matter.

She was more than worth it. Her tongue alone was worth it.

After the heat of the moment had passed though, they'd both realised they weren't alone in the world and had left Hermione and more importantly Draco in the middle of a disapproving crowd.

They started looking for them around the hall, the ballroom – where it was very difficult to pretend not to receive looks – and finally spotted them on the balcony, away from the party.

"Wait." Astoria stopped him as they reached the glass doors. Draco was supporting his weight on the banister, and Hermione had her back to the gardens. They were talking, closely.

At Astoria's wink, they waited a moment, and when the conversation seemed to flatten, and Hermione to calculate something with her fingers, Astoria gestured that it was time to interrupt. Blaise opened the doors to the balcony and they entered.

Both Draco and Hermione jumped and Astoria took a step further and started explaining right away:

"We've kind of made a scene."

"What happened?" Frowned Hermione.

"Err … I'll explain but apparently my father didn't appreciate my choice in acquaintances …"

"Why did you even invite me Greengrass?" Draco scowled, his previous smile vanished. He was in a fabulous mood now.

"I'm sorry Draco alright? I didn't think they'd be this … I thought people had moved on but obviously …" Stori started explaining.

"People are judgemental morons." Cut Hermione, unknowingly including Mr Greengrass in her speech. Blaise was surprised to see that Stori agreed anyway:

"Exactly. Look I was thinking …"

"Another brilliant idea?" Draco snarled. Astoria didn't retaliate the sarcasm:

"I just want to show that we don't judge you."

"I'm not your charity case Greengrass." He drawled in answer, taking a step to leave.

"No. You're my friend and no one treats my friends badly." She countered, the threat in her voice making him stop. Blaise shared a look with Hermione then. Her fond smile was similar to his.

Draco seemed mute now and as he remained rooted to the spot, Hermione asked Astoria:

"What did you think about?"

"We trade partners. You're muggle-born and …Well if there's someone they can't argue with, it's you Hermione."

Judging by her face Blaise doubted she'd agree. When she spoke though, he realised her concerns were only for Draco's reputation:

"Err …Yes I suppose but …" She turned to Draco. "Maybe more attention isn't so much of a good idea."

"It isn't. I can walk out of here by myself Green …" Draco started but corrected himself abruptly at Stori's glare. He found her scary too apparently. "Astoria."

"Alright, it's your decision." Stori granted.

As she came back to Blaise to take his arm, he had an idea. It was a risky bet, Hermione was kind of unpredictable, but if it worked …

"Does this mean you let both women take my arms mate?" He asked.

"I don't care. I just want to fuck off this place already." was Draco's curt answer.

"Alright." Blaise shrugged, trying not to smirk. "Hermione, come, let's become the most famous threesome in history."

Blaise found he enjoyed a bit too much both nerds' wide eyes, as well as the way Stori was trying not to burst out laughing. He tried not to either but it revealed a difficult task.

Hermione was the first to recover:

"I don't think so."

"Why? It could be fun."

And that's when it worked. Draco rolled his eyes and extended his arm to Hermione:

"Don't ridicule yourself Granger. I'll walk you out of this hell place." She had a short hesitation and he added, suddenly uncertain and lowering his arm a bit: "Unless you'd rather …"

"God no. Of course, I'll walk with you." She snapped and then finally grabbed his arm. Blaise saw the little relieved smile Draco quickly hid.

"We were right." Astoria murmured at his side, as they walked towards the entrance hall a few steps after the new 'gossip couple'.

"Yes and you didn't see it all." Blaise smirked.

"What?"

"He gawped at her when we arrived." He mirthfully revealed. A mischievous and obviously unwilling little laugh escaped her lips:

"I knew that dress would work." Then though, she frowned: "You know that this is kind of up to us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're both so stubborn that if we don't help it's going to take ages."

Blaise considered that a moment, and then cocked his head to a side as Granger glared openly at the director of the most prolific quill company in the entire country, Hasting, who had been looking at them with insistence. Draco at her side was smirking his face off in provocation.

"I don't know, they make quite the pair." He answered. At those words, the gossip couple passed Rita Skeeter and as the wicked but useful bitch assessed them for head to toe with contempt, Blaise saw Draco lift a hand to put atop Granger's on his arm and his smirk morphed in a threatening drawl.

Yes, there was definitely something going on there. On either side.

They took their first step outside, Blaise thinking that Granger could do a lot of good to Draco. And if one day Draco ever returned to the friend Blaise had first felt so drawn to, to the witty sarcastic bastard, he could do a lot of good to Granger too.

Although she looked better those days, he still wondered what had happened to her. With Astoria, they had hypothesis that were each more horrid than the others.

The fact that Draco knew, and had never betrayed her secret, only meant that it had touched him enough to protect it for her. Hence how significant it had to be.

Because one thing people didn't know was that under the petulant and weary man, was a very loyal and intricate heart. Someone beyond clever, hard-working, protective and strong.

When his grandma had died, Draco had brought Blaise back to his place, poured the firewhiskey and said nothing. He'd patted his shoulder and had let Blaise cry all night. He'd never mentioned it. And the next day, he'd taken Blaise out for drinks and girls even though he was such a nerd he hated it. He'd spent the next year following Blaise around in bars. Never, ever complaining.

Granger could definitely use someone like that. Someone who would just be there and protect her, whether she needed it or not, someone that wouldn't let go of her – contrary to her Gryffindor poor excuses for friends – someone supportive of her and what she did. Draco had the brains to follow her, they could really levitate forks together.

Blaise lowered his gaze to Astoria as they reached the path to the gates. She was frowning, but watching Hermione and Draco closely. Blaise didn't care any more about what they were or more certainly weren't doing. Her hairdo was all messed up, her raven hair pooling around her face, her dark eyes assessing their common friends with a smile.

She was the first woman to ever do more than just nod politely at his best friend. The first ever to take them both in. And he'd almost screwed it up.

She seemed to feel his gaze and lifted a smile to him. Blaise felt suddenly immensely lucky.

Draco turned around when Granger released his arm with a small smile, suddenly needing to focus on something else than the fact he'd taken her hand. Blaise was hugging Astoria as if his life depended on it.

"I think he's been a little scared." Granger said, chuckling.

"She is scary."

"Perfect for Blaise then." Draco only hummed in response but he agreed more than that. He was glad Blaise had finally found someone scary enough to bear with him. Someone he finally liked enough to stop fooling around with the whole female wizarding community.

Someone who had just pissed off her father because he, Draco Malfoy, was her friend.

Draco lowered his gaze to Granger then, who was watching the couple fondly.

He realised when she turned that same fond smile to him, why she'd pushed for him to confide in her, why she'd glared so fiercely at Hasting or why she'd been so revolted when he'd let go and told her how he felt. Why she'd been so pissed at Pansy.

She didn't only care about breaking the oath, as the challenge he thought she saw in it, she cared about him too.

Which was exactly why he'd defended her too, to Potter or his wife, to Skeeter, or Pansy. Why he'd helped her or asked how she felt earlier.

He could criticise Blaise, he was friends with Granger too, wasn't he?

He bet no one, not even Trelawney would have predicted that.

When she disapparated at the gates after being pecked on the cheek by Astoria, he prepared himself to go too and retrieved his wand. He hadn't expected Astoria to peck him on the cheek too.

"Liked the dress, didn't you?" Oh Salazar, not her too. He disapparated without answering, but not missing the couple's laughter.