Saturday, July 5th, 2003.
Part one: Encounters from the past.

Hermione had stumbled back home late. She'd tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. And it had had nothing to do with the muggle fireworks.
Draco Malfoy had kissed her.
Again!
For real this time!
She'd stared at thin air for nearly twenty minutes before remembering herself and apparating back home.
Her mind had been blank since then.
But for that: Draco had kissed her, and he was a pretty decent - good who was she kidding - kisser.
He had.
And the worst was that it wasn't even the most flabbergasting thing that had happened.
Oh no.
What she couldn't wrap her mind around was that there was no way she could deny the fact that she'd enjoyed it this time.
Actually enjoyed it.
She couldn't say it hadn't lasted long enough because it had, perhaps even not enough to her liking. Which kind of said a lot.
Merlin.
She hadn't been drunk either.
He hadn't been drunk!
He hadn't been just freed from his oath or any other pathetic excuse she'd formulated the last time.
They'd been in PUBLIC for Godric's sake!
Well, as much as the deserted far end of Hogsmeade was.
Still, he'd kissed her.
Publicly.
And she'd enjoyed it.
Quite a lot.
Damn, he liked her.
Did she too?
Oh, no, no, no, this was going some dark places she didn't want to step into.
Her head told her that this was a terrible idea. That she was not ready. She'd been crying over her failed marriage none other than two months before. She was just divorced.
Ron was interned!
She was just getting better; she couldn't get involved in anything.
IT WAS DRACO MALFOY FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!
Yes, it was.
And it was why all her body - yes, not just her heart or some other mushy reference to her feelings - and especially the parts she was failing miserably to ignore, was telling her.
It was Draco Malfoy.
And he liked her.
He likes you, Mione.
He finds you pretty.
Well, apparently, the two love birds had been right about that bit.
Hermione hadn't been entirely oblivious either, but denial was a bitch. Although after seeing from close what it could do to someone the week before, she would stop right away.
Draco liked her.
She'd enjoyed kissing him, alright. But did that mean she liked him as well? More than just friends kind of liking?
Perhaps she'd been lonelier than she'd liked to admit?
Was it just the kissing or him?
She liked him, yes, as a friend, that was a certainty. She cared, alright.
Did she want something more?
No freaking idea.
What the hell had happened to her?
She rubbed her face roughly in her hands and sighed. This was a right mess. Why did he have to go and do something like that, eh?
Prat.
Pretty prat.
Hermione shook her head and stood from the couch, grabbing her cup of tea and realising first that idt was empty and second, that yes, she'd made her morning tea. She just hadn't poured the beverage in the cup; instead, she'd gone to the living with an empty cup in hand.
Oh, this bore nothing good.
Distraction never did for Hermione Granger.
Blinking at herself, she made a decision. She banished the cup to the kitchen with a wave of her wand and grabbed a pinch of floo powder. Merlin be damned, she was going to ask for advice, and she hurried to throw it in the hearth and call for Stori's flat before she changed her mind.
Upon pushing her head through the awkward, tingling flames, she blinked as she saw Astoria's place for the first time.
Except for the bedroom and baths, which had to be behind the only door in the room, Hermione could practically see the whole place from the hearth.
Astoria had indeed nothing to do with her sister. Hermione only realised that the extent of her disagreements with the Greengrass patriarch was far broader than she'd thought.
She frowned as she also reckoned Blaise spent most of his time there than at his own quite gigantic London flat.
And it certainly wasn't for the wish of intimacy.
They didn't care one wit about Draco hearing - or seeing - anything since they snogged to hell in front of them every occasion given.
And it wasn't like neither of them knew how to silence a door either.
Hermione didn't really understand why they liked it there so much then; the place was pretty much like her own crappy place, if not smaller.
"Are you here to daydream about Draco?" Hermione heard the smirk in Blaise's voice before she could see it for real.
He crouched in front of the fireplace as she started pestering:
"Hey! Shut the …"
"Are you blushing?!" Astoria appeared in Hermione's field of vision, crouching next to Blaise. "What happened?" She asked.
"Err. I em." Hermione would have rubbed her face in her hands had her lower body not been in another building. "Can you come over?"
"Not now." Blaise denied.
"Oh, why?"
"Here." He said, accioing something with his wand. "I forgot … err …" A piece of paper landed in his hand, and he showed it to Hermione. "I didn't want to give you this in front of Draco, but I think you should go."
"Wh …"
"Go read it," Stori smiled. "I'll come over late afternoon, alright?"
"Alright."
Hermione extirpated her head from the fire and waited until the paper Blaise had shown passed through before ending the call.
If that hadn't been damn weird.
She unfolded the little parchment only to have another fall from it. She read that one first.

Was supposed to give you this yesterday.
Also, would you come by tomorrow afternoon around five? Stori won't be here, and I need your help to buy her a ring. Yes, an engagement ring.
Blaise.

It seemed as though Astoria's father had won that fight. Although, Hermione was sure it'd have happened anyway. She had a little squeal and found herself quite uncharacteristically grinning. Well, she had a right to be happy for them. She would never ever squeal like that again. The bliss only lasted until she read the other note anyway.

Mione,
Would you come to the shop for tea some time? I'd really like to have that chat with you.
Hope you're alright.
George.

A single and silent tear left her right eye. She didn't know if it was from joy or melancholy, but it still felt warm in her chest. Either way, the decision was made.
Hermione grabbed the letter she'd written the day before and tucked it in her pocket. She gave a treat to Tiny and walked out of her flat.
She'd postponed this for far too long. She didn't waste any time and apparated to Diagon Alley, walked quickly, with purpose, before she could change her mind. She reached the bright orange joke shop and stopped before the doors.
She shoved aside her sudden nervousness, rubbing her palms against her robes, took a deep breath and entered the shop.

Draco was a nervous and confused wreck. He'd paced around Blaise's kitchen all night, had fallen asleep on the couch in the early morning, still dressed up from the day before.
He'd woken up with a flash of another quite drunken kiss.
Like if that one, in particular, hadn't been enough, there'd been another.
After a cup of scalding coffee with which he burned his tongue, he needed to move.
His thoughts were a mess, and Blaise was not there - although if he'd have been of any help was debatable - and staying home pacing around was not something Draco fancied.
He grabbed the list of potions they'd written before he'd made a fool of himself the previous evening and apparated to Diagon Alley.
The apothecary was just open when he reached the doors.
"So?" The man behind the counter asked after apparently waiting a little too long for Draco to say something.
"Oh, right. Here." He handed him the list of potions, thinking perhaps a list of ingredients would have been more appropriate. The bespectacled man cursed under his breath before going to the back of his shop. Draco stared blankly at his back, his mind far away from Diagon Alley.
He'd thought the errand and fresh air would clear his mind.
Well, he'd been wrong. First, the weather had decided it didn't like him. The boiling heat this early in the morning was something that should be forbidden in England.
Second, Hermione's blushing face was a rather tricky image to wash off his brain. Or retina, or whatever.
He still couldn't fathom what exactly had made her blush.
It wasn't him.
It couldn't be.
He hadn't said anything! Merely asked if friends kissed each other.
Right. What the fuck?
She'd blushed!
Had she just been embarrassed? She'd been so determined to get an explanation.
AND he'd kissed her! Again!
He was the biggest fool of the country.
What would she think now?
DAMNED Blaise and his bloody manipulations! Denial, to a certain extent, of course not to a weaselbee level, was comfortable in a certain way.
Damn that green dress, damn Blaise and damn Draco's own sodding pair of eyes.
Damn she, for starters!
And her fucking kindness and big brown eyes, and slender shoulders and …
A loud throat clearing made Draco jump out of his skin. The apothecary's owner was looking at him as if he'd sprouted tentacles between his eyes.
There were so many ingredients facing Draco that even if some of them wouldn't have been damaged by shrinking, he couldn't possibly take them all.
"Err … I'll have that delivered." He said.
The man glared.
He still took his address and his money.
"Thank you." Draco nodded and made his way out. Except he was stopped as the door opened just before he reached it. A pair of baby blue eyes met stale grey.
Theodore Nott.
Fuck.

The colourful aisles were full of new bottles and boxes of products Hermione had never seen before. It was so crowded that she had trouble making her way through and was stopped after a few steps. Everything caught her eyes for a moment, but then she saw him. He was standing behind his counter, head bent on some paper, frowning. George's red hair had always been darker than Ron's or Ginny's - they were more like Bill's. Funny how some details escaped you when you didn't see someone for a while.
Hermione elbowed her way closer to his counter.
"Hi, George."
His head snapped up from his paper and, as recognition hit his eyes, a wide grin spread on his face.
"Hermione!" He ran around the counter and pushed through the crowd to engulf her in a painful hug. He smelled of cigarettes. He always smelled of cigarettes. It still felt good, like home. His vice-like grip on her tightened for a long moment. It didn't even loosen when a patron bumped into them from the left.
When he finally let go of her, she gasped for air, and he chuckled, though he looked sad.
"I'll close the shop." He said. "Wait for me at the back."
"Oh, you don't need to …"
"Nonsense." He dismissed, turning away from her. "Excuse me, I'm sorry, but we're closing!" He shouted, gesturing everybody out and grinning at the protests that caused.
Hermione realised he wouldn't be stopped, and, shaking her head slightly, she walked around the red counter and opened the door to the backroom. She hadn't set foot in George's shop in ages. The small lounge that led to his flat was exactly the same as she remembered. Two worn-out red couches laid in the middle of the room, and the same small coffee table was covered with old teacups and papers. His tiny fireplace showed a hearth full of ashes that had even been blown around to stain the carpet. Next to the window, which view was on a small courtyard, was his desk, also covered in papers. She cringed inwardly and, since he seemed to be struggling to get rid of his clients, took a look at the mess.
A quick charm and the papers were arranged in four neat piles. Expenses, profits, supply providers, product ideas.
"You can't help yourself, can you?"
She turned around to see him smile at her from the door. He gestured towards one of the couches. She obliged as he tapped his wand on the teapot and cleaned two of the dirty mugs on the coffee table. When he was done with the tea, he gave her a cup and pushed some of the mess aside to put the milk pot in front of her. With a switch of his wand, a jar of honey was conjured, making her smile.
"Thanks."
He smiled back; it seemed he still knew her pretty well. Even more so when he talked.
"I've hired someone to cover for the weekend crowd," He explained. "But he called in sick this morning."
"Oh. I was wondering."
"I bet." He smirked and shifted. "How are you, Mione?" He asked, blowing at his cup.
"I'm okay." She shrugged. "How are you?"
"Same." He sighed then, and started: "I'm sorry I didn't write earlier, I …"
"It's alright, I didn't either ..." She cut. "It mustn't be easy with your mum and …"
"Well, we're in non-speaking terms." He scowled.
"Oh, why?"
"Because I had the indecency to tell her that it wasn't your fault." Something dark passed his eyes, and Hermione sighed.
"She blames me, eh?" She shook her head; she'd known.
He seemed to be trying to contain a kind of anger she'd rarely ever seen in him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Gin and Harry also got in a fit with her." He said.
"Err …"
"Have you seen them?" He asked. "I mean since …"
"No. I'm still …"
"I get it." He cut, lifting a palm and cringed. "Harry's a wreck …"
"I know."
"Maybe you could come here to see them?" He offered. "On neutral territory?"
"Maybe." She cut sternly, and he caught the tone, not insisting. Hermione couldn't help herself, though and asked: "How is Ron?"
"Bad." He frowned at his cup. "Harry suggested muggle psychodigy?" He lifted his eyes for her to confirm.
"Psychology." She corrected.
"Yes," He nodded. "And healers are trying to combine that and some potions."
"Did they say how long they thought he …"
"No." He shook his head, his gaze returning to his cup. "He's completely delusional. He thinks …"
"It's my fault. I know." She lowered her eyes to her teacup, considering confiding in him. Perhaps it'd be different with someone who happened to be on Ron's side as well. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "It's just … George, I feel so guilty … I never saw he was this …"
"We never saw it either, Mione." He cut straight away.
"Yes, but I lived with him."
"And you were hurt too." He said, putting down his cup where he could on the coffee table. "With what happened to you, no one should blame you for not noticing."
Hermione didn't answer. After a moment, George refilled his cup of tea and changed the subject:
"So, I heard you used my love potions on Blaise Zabini?" It was efficient. Hermione chuckled.
"Right." She smirked. "He's so stupid he didn't see a thing."
George chuckled and they fell silent for a few seconds.
"You're friends, right?" He eventually grimaced, making Hermione snort.
"Yes, he's not my boyfriend George." She said. "He's with Astoria, actually."
"Oh. Alright." He nodded as if it made sense. Which it kind of did. "What about Malfoy?"
"What about him?"
"Well …" He frowned.
"What?"
"I saw them both yesterday." He eventually said.
"Oh, yes, your note." She nodded. How else could Blaise have had it?
"Yes, I was worried they'd just throw it away."
"Oh, did they …"
"Things got heated." He grimaced. Hermione felt her face fall.
"What? What happened?" She asked.
"Nothing that wasn't uncalled for." He said, finality in his tone. He returned to his cup, and Hermione huffed quietly. He hadn't changed much, it seemed.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
He shook his head and watched her a moment.
"They seem to be good friends."
"They are." She confirmed.
"How come?" He asked, half-concerned, half-joking. Hermione chuckled. "How did you meet again?" He added.
"Well, we kept bumping into each other … And then Astoria started dating Blaise and … Well, apparently Draco comes with him like a pack of two or something and …"
"And you're just friends with Draco?" He frowned but didn't seem to be judging. He seemed curious. If not totally disbelieving.
"Yes." She said, although she had no idea.
"Don't bring them when you come to see Harry." He grimaced uglily.
"I won't." She snorted. "But just so you know, Harry doesn't get a say in who I'm friends with. He's lost even the right to criticise …"
"I know. Hell, he knows." Hermione frowned, and he explained. "I told him Zabini was decent enough and err … after some discussion, he's agreed it's none of his business. I believe he decided not to talk to you about it."
Hermione blinked. "No, he didn't. Ginny, though, she didn't either, but …"
"Yeah, she was not as agreeing." He grimaced. "Though she said she'd rather swallow back the subject if it meant speaking to you again."
"We're not there yet."
He shrugged. "I know. Maybe with time …" He sighed. "Look, I just wish you'd be part of the family again."
"I'll never be, George."
He sighed.
"Not that way … I understand that things will never be back to what they were, but … I'd come to think of you as a surrogate sister, and I wish we could start over." He shrugged, then frowned. "Hell, if not with them, at least with me." He smirked at Hermione's face.
She shook her head but confessed either way: "Me too."
He grinned, and this time the sadness was just at the corner of his eyes.
"Do your big brother a favour then and teach me those paper piles charms."
Hermione stayed a little longer, and just before they finally parted ways, promising each other that this sort of tea would become a weekly thing, she remembered her letter.
"Oh, George, wait."
"Yes?"
"Would you …" She swallowed as she retrieved the letter from her pocket. "Would you give that to Ron when he feels better?"
"Wh …" He frowned. "Oh, you wrote?"
"Yes. I … Not now. When he's better."
"Alright, I'll give him." He nodded, taking the letter from her hand and not looking away from her eyes.
It was a strange feeling to know she could still trust him.
"Thank you."

Nott gave Draco a jerk of a polite nod, his eyes gleaming with hate.
Draco found himself chuckling.
"It'll get out eventually." Nott hissed between his teeth as he stepped into the shop. It made Draco stop and turn. Then, he smirked. The kind of smirk he hadn't pulled in quite some time. Oh, he was feeling better, apparently.
"What? The fact that I'm selling?" The honeyed tone was quite reminiscent of Hermione, and Draco relished in it. "It's not a secret, Theo."
The look on his face. Draco could have cheered.
Instead, he felt like he was truly back to himself as he sneered.
Nott opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Draco was out.
He felt so light-headed with the sadistic pleasure this encounter had brought that it took him a moment to realise someone else he knew was there, just a few feet away from him.
She was walking out of the Weasley shop, her hair pulled up in a messy knot, her eyes reddish. She righted her robes as she took out her wand, oblivious to his stare.
Draco didn't move.
Blaise must have given her the note. He didn't know what to think about it.
Perhaps, perhaps the man wasn't as bad as Draco's grudge told him.
She didn't look in any kind of distress - not that he'd be able to tell. Her eyes were still rimmed with red.
Was she really alright?
Was he the reason her eyes were red?
Or had the Weasley idiot done something?

Hermione straightened her robes and took a deep breath before disapparating. As she gripped her wand and started to spin on her hells, she lifted her eyes. A flash of blond hair caught her eyes.
Draco was there and looking right at her as she felt the air get sucked from her lungs.
It'd been too late to say hi.
As she landed in the little street next to her crappy building, she blinked.
Damn.
Would he think she'd ignored him on purpose?
She could have waved if she'd caught sight of him only half a second earlier.
Wait, would she have anyway?
He'd kissed her for Merlin's sake.
Oh, she really needed Astoria, which was almost as disturbing as what Draco had done.