It's been a minute here, hasn't it. I guess life has caught up to me, but I vow! There shall be an update soon. Thank you for your lovely comments and don't forget to leave some more because I feed on them.

"So... Granger?"

"Yes, Theo – Granger, do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"No, I do understand who you're talking about but I really don't get why you have your panties in such a twist. I mean, it's been years since you last exchanged passive-aggressive sexually-frustrated insults. Shouldn't we all be laughing about those times yet? Ha-ha?"

Draco's expression was a shifting picture of annoyance and disbelief.

"Merlin– remind me why I haven't sent you flying arse-first back into the fireplace you came from."

"Because you're a lonesome loser who's in desperate need of an excellent friend, such as I, and also because you happen to enjoy my company more than your own."

"Sending birthday cards and occasionally checking if I haven't rotted here doesn't make you an excellent friend, Nott."

"You can talk after I get at least one 'Happy Birthday'."

"I'm not permitted to personal mail and you know it."

"Bollocks. I thought you get pardoned if one third of the Golden Trio sprinkles you with their magical dust of forgiveness."

"You're taking this way out of context."

"You never gave me a context to begin with!"

Theodore Nott, seemingly not aged a day since he turned 20, now 28, with the same boyish smile, only now accompanied with a devilish spark in his eyes, was Draco's closest definition of a friend. Once the quiet, cool Slytherin had now become a heartthrob for not one witch in England, sighs about his "deep dark gaze" and "oh, his long, tied brown hair!" followed the man everywhere and more or less pulled him away from the tight grasp of the past. But he never forgot it. His subtly shown care for Draco was a reminder for that.

Theo had sprawled rather comfortably in an armchair across his host, a cup of firewhiskey and ice in one hand, fingertips drumming on the armrest. One ankle was resting atop his leg almost giving him a bored look but Draco knew better. He was intrigued and awaiting for something to bite onto. And did Draco have a whole lot to offer!

"I told you. I got… associated with her, a month ago. But then this fucking kid called her– well, insulted her in public and I lost it." He was massaging his temples in an attempt to loosen the headache. "She didn't deserve that."

"Ah, so you were the knight in shiny armor. I still don't get where the problem is."

A pause.

"I obliviated her."

Theo chocked on his gulp and doubled over his legs to spit whatever was left on the floor.

"You– you mean the kid, right? Not Hermione-capable-of-murder-Granger, right?"

"Well… both."

"Sweet Salazar, I'll bring a brick to your funeral. Are you that dense? What were you thinking?"

Draco growled angrily.

"I was thinking that the nicest, most normal conversation I've had in almost a decade had been tainted for both me and her! I thought– I thought, might as well just make her forget all about it. Do you know how she looked at me when I nearly broke that child's head on the pavement. Like I was a fucking monster, Nott. I don't need that."

"You need to sign up for an anger management class."

"You need to shove your head up your arse," he hissed.

"Impressively mature."

Theo was trying hard not to openly laugh but with no success. Draco's glare was so intense that his left eye began twitching.

"Okay, so, you obliviated her, and? No witnesses, no consequences."

"Yes, well, I may or may not have done it a couple more times. On separate occasions."

Theo raised his hands in defeat.

"Alright, now is the time I stand up and leave before you drag me into your evil genius plan to cook Granger's brains until she likes you. I do not wish to make out with Dementors, thank you very much. Theo-out!"

He indeed headed for the door but upon realizing he wasn't being stopped he turned around only to see a very lost-looking Malfoy. He sighed dramatically and demonstratively resumed his place on the armchair.

"Let's get one thing straight, alright. You like her?"

"No."

"But you've deliberately made her forget the three times you met her and fucked things up."

"Yes."

"Because?"

"Because it's easy. She lets her guard down too soon and she acts like we've been friends since forever. She alters herself to whatever mood I'm in and she tries so hard to be nice."

Theo shook his head in disappointment.

"She not your usual weekend shag, Draco. You can't toy with her like that because she makes you think it's easy."

Draco's anger began to bubble up dangerously again.

"Then why has she let me toy with her memory, hm?"

"Maybe she really does trust you. Who knows how mental she really is. Smart – yes, but sane? None of the Golden threesome has ever been right in the head."

Draco remained silent, staring out the window into the chilly afternoon hills spread across the Manor's lands. Both men were engulfed by their own thoughts for awhile until Theo arose to get a refill of his drink and poured an extra glass.

The sunset finally took its last beams of light away along with the little warmth it offered to the pretentious days of early autumn. Theo had left for home a few drinks before becoming too inadequate to use the floo which left Draco to lift the bottle himself, the words "Just talk to her, mate" flowing through his mind." Malfoys never get drunk" Lucius had once preached and Draco was now deeply resenting yet another family gift that was proving to be completely pointless. He'd give his right arm to pass out like a normal man.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

A tiny, wide eyed house elf entered the room, his little feet awkwardly tip-toeing on the floor as if he needed to go to the loo.

"What is it, Pen?"

"Master, Pen must inform you– there is a Miss waiting outside the gate, sir."

"Tell her it's not Sunday yet. To come back when she finds out how to get me drunk."

"With much respect, sir, Pen doesn't think it's one of those Misses."

"Even better, tell her to sod off."

"Yes, sir."

The elf disappeared behind the door. Draco finished the last few drops in the bottle and set it aside. He knew he was in no position to turn down potential bed-mates, that being the only form of a relationship any self-respecting woman wanted with him. Not to mention the volunteers weren't that many to begin with. Funny how a Dark Mark can be both appealing and repulsing, depending on which side of history you're on. Draco couldn't blame them, anyway. Sometimes he felt like clawing through the skin with his own fingernails. He wondered if the flesh underneath was stained as well, if the dirt was engraved on his bones. It would itch, occasionally, and he'd scratch until it hurt, until lines of wounds would cut through the skull and snake. But in the end it always healed, far too quick and traceless.

" –perfectly fine, Pen! Just a few minutes, alright?"

A chill ran down Draco's back and a jolt of unpleasantly sharp energy got him up on feet. That voice, it came as if from deep under his mind, yet it sounded too real. She couldn't be here. Not in this house.

"Look, sweetie, I won't really hurt him. We'll just have a conversation."

It sounded like she was just outside his room. The next moment she was in it.

"Well, look at that, I expected to see a ferret but I guess it's just you."

She was bitterly glaring at him, lips pursed in the thinnest line imaginable and brow furrowed horribly.

"You promised my house elf you won't be trying to murder me. And I'm fairly certain he told you to sod off."

"Just because you think you can hide behind you finger doesn't mean I'll sir here and pretend it's working! I need explanations, and fast."

She pulled her insane hair off her face and gave him an expectant look.

"You know what you need, Granger?" he casually asked. "A good night spent with somebody with skilled hands."

"Oh, and I'm sure you're envisioning yourself, Malfoy. I'm guessing you've hand plenty of practice."

"Jealous?"

"Repulsed."

He chuckled.

"Did I say something funny?"

"You can't be repulsed by a skilled man."

"I can be, if the definition of s skilled man is a whore."

"I'm guessing you haven't had much of a sex life then."

"It is none of your sodding business."

Her cheeks were a pure pink now. Who'd know teasing Granger like that'd be so much fun. Seeing her mad was one, but all flushed and uncomfortable like that – it was an entirely different thing.

"Oh, come now, did Won-Won disappoint?"

"You are walking on very thin ice, Malfoy." she hissed low.

"Or was it that he was just too plain and polite for your taste?" he even winked at her.

She launched at him with something nearly as terrifying as a wand – her bare hand, and slapped him across the face so hard his neck almost twisted 180 degrees back. His head immediately started pulsating painfully, a red-hot burn in the shape of her palm forming on his left cheek. She was looking at him with an icy lour, heaving for breath and massaging her fingers.

"I thought I could talk to you like to a human being. Seeing as you are not capable of an intelligent conversation, I'll never bother again. Have a great miserable life, Malfoy."

She turned on her heel and left the room in a rush.

Draco expected to feel immediate relief but the moment the door was loudly shut close, his chest tightened heavily. I don't want her to leave. Damn her. Why did it have to be the most difficult one.

He threw himself after her in a chase down the long hallway. She heard his footsteps and tuned, only to see a big male body fling probably a meter off the floor towards her. She screeched and covered her head instinctively but that left the better part of her body exposed and she felt the painful collision in her chest. The landed on the floor with a loud thud, him twisted so he could take most of the fall's impact, and her flopped rather ungracefully atop of him. Hermione immediately attempted to raise herself up and mince him into tiny edible pieces but his arms hovered over her back and locked her in a very familiar embrace.

"I am sorry. I'm sorry. Don't run."