Chapter One

"I do not want to die inside just to breathe in." – Plumb "Cut"

Hermione Granger did not like Fridays. Friday was a day off for her, and it plagued her weekly. She preferred to be at work, proofing, editing, doing her usual work for the ministry. Reports, so many, and she would gladly sink herself into them and let go of everything else outside of it.

Fridays made her realize how torn up she was. Life wasn't what it used to be, but she'd expected that. How could the war not change things? Ron was dead, Cedric, Dumbledore, Lavender, Bill, Remus, Sirius… The stress had taken the toll on her, and it was obvious to all those around her. Though, the only person who checked up on her was Harry, really. The others had gone off, moved on… lived their life. While she stayed in the same place, doing the same thing, for all her life, it felt like.

Friday was cleaning day. Laundry, dishes, dusting, sweeping, mopping… anything that was monotonous, tedious, time consuming… drowning. Hermione didn't keep a day planner, or a calendar. The days moved, she knew, but what was the point of keeping track? Her week was the same.

Working 10 AM to 7 PM Monday through Thursday, every week. No matter what. Holidays? Who needed them? Hermione sure didn't, though she ate Christmas dinner with Harry and Ginny, usually. She smiled her way through a stressful evening of trying to seem like she wasn't crazy and then went home to sleep off the worry. Saturday and Sunday were perhaps her favorite days: volunteering at the animal shelter. Desperate for something to fill her days off, she had searched the news board in the break room and found the shelter needing volunteers. So it hard started, volunteering to walk dogs, clean kennels, feed animals, fetch them for their owners and take care of basic paperwork.

It wasn't the most magical job in the world, and it certainly wasn't very impressive being a glorified pooper-scooper, but it did the trick for Hermione. Immersed in the sounds of friendly animals, making their day just a little bit better… well, that was something she could do.

Saturday dawned cool and crisp, the air tasting refreshing in the late summer weather. Taking a deep breath, Hermione made her way into the shelter, avoiding questioning glances as people brought up her fire rescue escapade. Hermione didn't see how it was that big of a deal; she'd done it without thinking. Her own life meant so little to her, what did it matter risking it to save another? Nothing, that's what.

Falling into her morning routine, cleaning the cages, petting and whispering as she went, Hermione could feel the stress slipping away. It took her awhile to realize she was being watched, absorbed as she was in the animals. She'd just reached the cage of one of her favorite dogs, one who she was consistently hoping would be adopted. Scratching Symon's ear, she glanced at her visitor.

"Draco." Her tone was flat as she pushed Symon out of the way to set down his fresh food bowl, one hand staying on him reassuringly as she moved.

"Granger." Draco raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she adored the dog. Draco himself could see little about him that was appealing. It was a mutt, just like the other dogs in this area, though apparently Granger had taken a specific liking to this dog. Typical. She'd been such a bleeding heart back in the day.

"Adopting a pet, Draco?" That same small, disinterested smile graced her lips as she pushed her hair back, shutting the kennel door on Symon, who whined at her, his tail wagging as he seemed to give a dog sigh.

"Not exactly," Draco replied, a frown on his lips as he looked at Symon. "What's so special about that dog?" He gestured vaguely at the black and tan dog.

Hermione looked back to Symon, and shrugged, feigning indifference. "He's friendly. He's been here a long time." Symon was one of her best friends. A friendly mixed breed, he had at least some bernese mountain dog in him, his build large with a long hair coat and inquisitive brown eyes. Lazy, friendly, and adoringly lovable, Hermione had fallen in love with his big brown eyes the first time he'd begged a treat from her.

"Why don't you adopt him?" Draco was still eyeing the dog in question with apprehension as he moved forward, offering his hand to be smelled by the ever curious dog.

"No room," Hermione lied smoothly. Lying was so much easier now, since she didn't care. If her little lies kept other people happy, why was there any reason to avoid them? She had problems recalling why she'd always though lies were terrible. They got her though the day; let her think, that maybe, things were okay. Just a little bit, at least.

"Ah," Draco replied, letting it drop. Symon had managed to slobber on his hand as he wiped it off delicately on his pant leg. He was still wondering how he'd let Potter convince him into this. He wasn't going to be able to get anywhere with Granger. She called him Draco, not Malfoy. She didn't put up a fight, she was… gone. Potter just hadn't accepted it. Draco had no clue as to how he was supposed to bring her back. But her affection for the dog was obvious enough. So maybe there was hope. She did care about something… just not the things people usually cared about. He'd never seen appeal in dogs, anyhow. Dumb, was the first word that came to mind when he looked at them, and if there was one thing Draco despised, it was stupidity.

His grey eyes wandered back up to Hermione, watching her without a bit of subtlety. She was thin, he noted, her clothes hanging awkwardly on her frame. Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes didn't glow quite enough. Oh Granger, he though solemnly to himself, what have you done to yourself? The war had been hard on everyone, himself included.

Hermione was ignoring Draco as she went about a few more chores. One of the front desk ladies had come back in to twitter over Draco. Not surprising, in the least, to Hermione. He was attractive. His thin build, with some muscle defined over his lanky frame, and his platinum blonde hair cut to accentuate his cheek bones. Perhaps the only defect was the large scar running from the bridge of his nose in a diagonal line to the bottom of his jaw, but even then, it just added an air of danger to him. And women loved danger, didn't they? Draco had never shown even the slightest bit of consciousness about the scar from the war, and Hermione doubted that he even realized it was there most times. He seemed too full of himself to care about anything anyhow; life always worked out well for a Malfoy.

Giving a last pet through the cage wire to Symon, she turned to face Draco and the secretary again. She was trying valiantly to get his attention, and Draco was pointedly blowing her off. Potter had given him a mission, and he damn well was going to follow up on his end of the deal. "Granger, do you have plans for lunch?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. "I usually eat something in the break room and then do my afternoon duties. I don't really do 'lunch'." And not with you, she added silently to herself as she brushed past him.

Draco let a breath out slowly between his teeth as he followed her. "Perhaps you should consider 'doing lunch' now and then," he retorted as he caught up to her. Hermione was washing her hands, and Draco followed suit, his hand feeling a little icky from Symon's investigating.

"I'd really rather not, Draco."

"I insist, Granger." After pausing to pick an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder, he turned to face her, shrugging, "Unless you're afraid." He left the dig about being a Gryffindor unspoken, as there were muggles about who would be likely to overhear.

Hermione made a very unladylike snort as she turned from him, walking through a door labeled 'staff only'. Draco followed, not about to let some door stand in his way. "Why're you being so insistent, Draco? We weren't exactly friends before." Her eyes were on his, searching for something. Well, at least he had her vaguely interested.

"I'm a masochist at heart, Granger." It annoyed him that she was so cool, so… blank. The only facial expressions she seemed to possess was the blank empty stare and the forced wishy-washy smile that made her look awkward.

"That's good to know," she remarked absently as she pulled her lunch from the small fridge. Watching as she munched on carrots and what looked to be a sandwich of some sort, Draco frowned more.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Granger?" Draco folded his arms over his chest as he watched her nibble a carrot.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Draco. Are you trying to start a fight? It really won't work, you know." Blank. Always so blank. Hermione could feel the stirring of something – perhaps it was minor irritation, but she ignored it. If she started feeling anything, it would all come back. The smell of charred flesh, screams, her own and others… it was better this way, she concluded silently, weighing her options mentally as she watched Draco.

"I'm bloody well trying to start a fight, Granger. That's one of your best traits. Or was, at least." Tossing his hands up in the air and making an irritated sound, he brushed past the simpering secretary and exited the building, muttering to himself the whole way.

A/N: Voila. Enjoy. Hopefully I'll write more tonight. I was up until two last night writing. XD