Author's Note: Woo, reviews! Oh, how I love reviews.

This chapter really isn't important in terms of Hermione's life, but it's got a lot of background information on Draco, and what he's been doing since the War.

Also, I mention a 'Tracey Davis' girl in this chapter. She is not made up, she is a canon character. Granted, she hasn't been mentioned in the books yet, but she is a Slytherin. She was on a list of students that JK Rowling made, which was revealed during the Harry Potter and Me interview.

Draco's Appearance: The Draco in my mind looks like this (img dot photobucket dot com / albums / v321 / heinzy12 / r4yh dot jpg). Yes, he looks slightly psychotic but I like that. Draco isn't some incredibly hunky tan buff guy. He really looks like this in my mind. This lovely portrait was drawn by Riikka Jantti.

I'm sorry the link looks so messed up but won't let me post a link. Just replace the dots with actual dots and remove the spaces.

Hermione's back ached terribly and she was dreading having to say goodbye to Padma.

She had Portkeyed back to Edinburgh the morning after her interview – ticket courtesy of Harry, despite her better protests – and was currently moving her things. She wanted to be moved back to London with Ginny before her starting seminar on Friday.

Moving heavy boxes of books and clothing was proving to be difficult, painful, and tedious. Padma was too busy at work to be able to help, but had promised to be home in time for a goodbye dinner.

The moving process was complicated. Just for today, she had permission from the Ministry – more specifically Orlinda – to use one of their moving aids. The youth was rather pompous, liking to show off to Hermione. He was quite clumsy, often dropping things whenever he was trying to pull off a difficult trick. The only useful thing about him was that he was skilled in the art of long-distance Apparating; he could Apparate overseas, as far as Australia from London. He claimed it was from long, hard practice and special Ministry training.

However he had managed to acquire the necessary training, Hermione really didn't care, so long as he could efficiently move her things from one apartment to the other. His job was to Apparate her things to Ginny's house, while Hermione packed and stacked everything for him.

She was in a horrible mood, with her backache and the annoying 19-year-old. She knew she couldn't blame the boy for her irritability; she was simply nervous about relocating and starting a new life. Could she really move back to London? She was so used to the relative peace and quietness of Scotland that the noise and chaos of London seemed foreign to her. She was also rather nervous about her new job. The realization that she would be conducting Ministry officials underneath her and be in charge of Ministry relations with Muggles in the UK had only settled in that morning, leaving her blind with worry and anxiety. No amount of training could prepare her for this job, she thought.

The sound of something crashing interrupted her, bringing her out of her worries. She looked down to see the boy, Halsey, splayed on his back, groaning.

"What have you done?" she snapped impatiently.

The boy groaned again, clutching his knee. "Your bloody cat attacked me."

Hermione looked over at Crookshanks, her flat-faced ginger-haired cat. She said in a baby voice, "Crookshanks, you mean kitty, what did you do to the hard-working man?"

Crookshanks gave her a blank look and scurried away into the next room, not wanting to be scolded.

"Are you going to be alright?" she asked the boy, sighing exasperatedly. She wasn't done moving her things and if the only person in the room who could actually move her things from point A to B was injured, she'd have a much more difficult time moving.

He didn't answer her for a few minutes. "Yes, I'll be fine, I think. Knee pains shouldn't affect my Apparition."

"Good, well here's the next set of boxes ready to do," said Hermione, not bothering to stop and sympathize with Halsey. She was anxious to be rid of his company.

In self-defense, Hermione had to say she wasn't usually this unsympathetic. If anything, she had the most compassionate and caring soul this side of the Indian Ocean, although she had a peculiar way of showing it. She often dressed her sympathetic side with bossiness and pomposity to avoid being thought of as a sap.

Two hours later, Halsey was gone and the apartment looked bare. Most of the things around the apartment had been Hermione's; Padma was a very miser person and rarely spent money on collectibles. Most of Padma's things were in her room, anyhow. She always thought she'd be discomforting Hermione by keeping her things out in the common territory.

Hermione was enjoying the silence of having the apartment to herself and was sipping at her tea graciously. Crookshanks was curled at her feet and Rowin was out hunting, the night starting to fall.

Padma burst through the front door, breathless. "So sorry I'm late! I rushed home as soon as I could."

Hermione was staring out the window, lost in a reverie.

Padma said, "Anyone home?"

Hermione looked up, snapping out of space. "Sorry, Pad, I was just thinking."

"Well, quit thinking! We've got a goodbye dinner to have!"

Padma rushed into the kitchenette and set her wand to work, casting spells in different directions as pots and pans began to fill themselves with food and cook over the stove. Padma manually made a salad, talking to Hermione all the while.

They enjoyed a lovely meal, although the atmosphere was definitely not as happy. Both girls were undoubtedly thinking of their goodbye. Hermione had her own self-doubts to worry about on top of saying goodbye, and Padma was also worrying about moving in with her boyfriend, William.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked Padma. "You don't look well."

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" asked Hermione hesitantly.

Padma was unsure to what she was referring. "What, you mean moving back to London?"

"I mean everything," Hermione sighed. "In the past week I've quit my job, gotten a new and much scarier one, and moved back to London. Things are happening so quickly, it just feels like I have no control over any of it."

"Well you don't, darling. You can't control what happens to you. There are certain things which you can control, and most times they're very small. Like what you're going to eat for breakfast everyday – you have control over that," said Padma pragmatically.

"What if I'm not ready? I can't just quit that job and move back expecting to still have a job at Hogwarts," stressed Hermione.

Padma looked at her sympathetically. "We do what we can and hope for the best. These are the times when we need to act, not think. Because who knows, maybe these changes happening in your life are for the best. Maybe you'll be happier or more successful. All you need to do is walk into that Ministry with your head held high and do your best. The rest will happen in due time."

Hermione laughed lightly, a tear rolling down her cheek. "When did you get to be so philosophical?"

Padma smiled wryly, "Maybe it's age. Maybe I've learned from everything that's happened to me. Or maybe I read too many Muggle magazines."

Hermione beamed. "I'm going to miss your sarcasm."

"Well, I'm not dying, love! I'm just going to be in a different city. We'll still visit and write and phone each other. I know how to use a telephone, thanks to you," said Padma, poking Hermione's shoulder.

"I'm glad I won't be leaving you by yourself in this apartment," said Hermione, looking around the place. "Is William's flat nice?"

Padma sipped her wine. "Very. He likes to incorporate Muggle and Wizarding technology – his mum was muggle-born – so it's a very handy place. Of course, he'll have to teach me how to use half of the things, but I look forward to it. He's so lovely."

Hermione grinned. "I'm happy you're happy."

"When will Miss Granger get herself a boy?" asked Padma, winking across the table at her.

Hermione thought hard. "There honestly hasn't been any romantic male interaction in a long while. The only man I've talked to outside of Colin, Harry, and Ron lately is Malfoy."

"That's right!" Padma remembered. "You haven't told me the whole Malfoy story. Go on, spill."

"Well there's not much to say…" said Hermione shyly, fingering the rim of her wine glass. When Padma gave her a look she reluctantly continued. "I've just seen him more in the last week than I have in the last 5 years. I hadn't seen him in so long that when I heard his name in the Portkey station I just didn't think – I ran to him and said hello, expecting some sincerity back, but I didn't get it. He hasn't changed all that much. He's just more mature, I suppose."

"Mature how?" asked Padma, curious.

Hermione had to think before she answered. How had Malfoy matured? "I suppose he thinks before he speaks and acts. Before he would just blurt the first insult that came to mind, but I think he's being a bit more responsible. He's obviously very well off – he's got those Portkey stations and he works at the Ministry, or so Orlinda says. I'm not quite sure what he does, but he definitely gets paid a lot. He works directly with Scrimgeour and his team of Wizards. Maybe I'll ask him if I ever run into him at the Ministry."

"I think I read about it in the Prophet," said Padma. "He correlates between the Muggle Prime Minister and the Ministry. His job is a bit like yours, I suppose, only he works to further both societies' economies, whereas you're work is mostly for political peace."

Hermione was shocked at this peace of news. "But Malfoy hates Muggles and anything to do with them! Why on earth would he work with them?"

Padma said knowingly, "Hermione, the world isn't just black and white. There are gray areas, and I think Malfoy's in there. He's not exactly bad – he wasn't on You-Know-Who's side in the war, after all – he's just an arse. My personal opinion is he's working with Muggles to further himself. The job pays well, he gets recognized in both societies – and most important – he can clear his name from the War suspect list. Working with Muggles is a complete anti-You-Know-Who move. No Death Eater would ever do that."

Everything Padma said was making sense to Hermione. It was self-preservation. It was also something Malfoy was capable of doing – not only that, but it was something expected of him. Malfoys, and Slytherins in general, were all about self-preservation. They were skilled in the art of deception and were very apt at sneaking out of a sticky situation. What Malfoy was doing was not only sneaky, but extremely clever. By working with Muggles, he was saving his family name, saving his own skin, and furthering himself with both societies. Hermione was impressed and horrified at the same time.

"What else do you know about Malfoy?" asked Hermione, genuinely interested now.

Padma opened her mouth to continue, but closed it. She gave Hermione a sly smile. "Why the sudden interest in Malfoy?"

Hermione could feel a light blush creeping up her neck, despite her best efforts to suppress it. She said stoically, "I just find his situation interesting. He went from hiding during the War to a mega-status billionaire overnight, it seems."

Padma giggled and said, "You forgot about his status as Witch Weekly's Bachelor of the Year."

"Was he?" Hermione asked, aghast.

Nodding enthusiastically, Padma said, "Oh yes! I'm surprised you didn't know; you usually like to keep up with all the news magazines. He's been Bachelor # 1 for three years now."

Hermione was dumbfounded. How had she overlooked that in all the years she'd read Witch Weekly? She said, "Do you have a copy of one of those magazines, by any chance?"

Padma gave her that sly smile again, lifting herself easily out of the chair and disappearing in her room. She emerged 15 minutes later with a large stack of magazines and newspapers, as well as a thick portfolio that looked like it was from her work.

"What's all this?" Hermione asked, peering at the stack Padma dropped in front of her.

"This," said Padma "Is everything you need to know about Malfoy. These are the Witch Weekly magazines that mention Malfoy, some Prophet clippings about the Ministry which also include references to Malfoy, and his medical folder, which I really shouldn't be showing you."

"Why do you have his medical folder? Wouldn't he see a doctor at Mungo's?" asked Hermione, frowning as she picked up the thick folder.

"Malfoy's a paranoid little snit when it comes to his health," said Padma shrewdly. "His family has a history of insanity at a young age – they're actually still investing Lucius Malfoy's case, wondering if he wasn't clinically insane when he was alive.

"Anyhow, Malfoy doesn't trust St. Mungo's. Ever since that fiasco two years ago with his girlfriend, he's never set foot in there. He still contributes of course, as is expected of him, but he likes to come here for his medical inquiries and check-ups. I had the displeasure of treating him when he was last here."

Hermione's brows furrowed even more as she heard this new piece of information. She was still flipping through the folder when she asked, "What fiasco?"

Padma stopped, gasping as she flung her hand to her mouth. "Oh dear."

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, slightly worried at this sudden reaction.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" howled Padma, biting her finger. "I can't believe I just let that slip!"

Hermione stood up and grabbed onto Padma's shoulders. "Let what slip? What's wrong?"

Padma became deadly serious. "Hermione, what I'm going to tell you can reach no one else's ears. You can't tell Harry or Ron or Ginny or anyone. Especially don't tell Malfoy you know. I could really lose my job for this."

Hermione was a bit nervous about what Padma was going to say. What could possibly be so top-secret?

"You remember Tracey Davis? She wasn't a very popular Slytherin – hardly ever hung around Malfoy and his crew, but she was a pureblood Slytherin nonetheless. She and Malfoy began dating heavily two years ago. He accidentally got her pregnant after dating for two months. They didn't want anyone to get wind of it though; Malfoy still had his reputation to think of and Tracey's parents were very against Malfoy. He took her to Mungo's under an anonymous name when she became very ill. She remained there for most of her pregnancy since Malfoy didn't want to take any chances. Tracey died in childbirth, the baby dying with her. It was later revealed that an apprentice healer was giving her the wrong dose of medicine, which is what caused her illnesses and also killed the baby. Malfoy could have sued them if he wanted, but he was so overwrought with grief that he let the charges drop."

Hermione's mind was swirling with horror and fascination. She was getting drunk on all this new information of Draco Malfoy that she felt slightly light-headed. All these new facts made Malfoy seem more human, more penetrable. Like he wasn't an untouchable god anymore – he was mortal and faced losses like the rest of mankind. Hermione wanted as much information on Malfoy as possible.

"How did the press not catch wind of this?" whispered Hermione, her eyes wide.

Padma looked regretful, almost sorry for Malfoy. "Malfoy spent a large sum of money to keep all the healers in St. Mungo's quiet. When he started his treatments in Edinburgh his complete records came with him. No amount of money could erase his girlfriend and child's death completely."

Hermione could feel her eyes welling up. She was sorry for Malfoy, sorry for his girlfriend, and sorry for his unborn child. What would Malfoy be like today if the tragedy hadn't occurred? Would he be happily married with a healthy two-year old child?

"Was it a boy or a girl?" asked Hermione quietly.

"A boy. He was to be Malfoy's heir," Padma said back.

Both girls were silent for many minutes, the happier mood of the evening inevitably gone. The air was still and the only sounds that could be heard were Hermione's deep breathing and Crookshanks' claws on the wooden floor.

"Would you mind if I looked over these things?" asked Hermione, her head still down.

Padma squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Take your time."

With that, Padma left Hermione to herself, returning to her bedroom and closing the door softly.

As soon as Padma's door was shut, Hermione let out a silent cry. If Hermione was guilty of one fault, it was being too emotional. She was a ticking time-bomb, ready to go off at any minute. Small disturbances in people's lives could make her cry or make her angry. Surely Malfoy would disapprove of her inability to control her feelings, being as he was the master of stoicism. Hermione couldn't imagine living her life normally if her significant other and unborn child were dead. How could any ordinary human being suppress such strong feelings of hate towards the world? How could Malfoy wake up every morning and force himself to go on with his day? Hermione imagined that each day it would get harder and harder to put on that mask, to be that man of impenetrability. This took courage. Hermione would never accuse Malfoy of being a coward again.

She poured over the magazines and newspaper clippings. She read through Malfoy's interview in Witch Weekly, smiling to herself. This was dated two and a half years ago – had this interview been before Tracey and the baby died?

Hermione looked hard at the picture of Malfoy. He was smirking at her, running his hands through his hair. He looked so … happy. In his own way, Malfoy looked happy. He didn't need to laugh and be gay and beam to look happy. He just needed his casual smirk, that mischievous gleam in his eye that promised he would come out on top, and the light spring in his step. Hermione had noticed these little characteristics in Malfoy when she had been at his Manor before. Thinking back, she realized his smirks, his gleams, they didn't have the innocence they did before. If innocence was even the right word. They were malicious – on the very edge of breaking down. How long would Malfoy last before he cracked under the pressure of his rage and emotions? He was standing on a ledge a thousand feet above the ground, and Hermione wanted to save him.

She stopped to read a few of the questions.

WW: Mister Malfoy, during the War you disappeared completely to save yourself. How has that affected your life now? How did you emerge the victor and on top after the war ended?

DM: I won't name names. I don't want to put anyone else at risk, but there were a few people who helped me along the way. They housed me, kept me safe, and out of sight. I owe my life – literally – to them, and I shall not repay them by releasing their names to the public and put them in danger.

While I was in hiding I wasn't just idle. I kept up with the Malfoy Empire and kept its assets safe. When my uncle died and left me the Portkey Empire, I didn't think I could juggle both his assets and mine. I could, though. I managed my time well and along with my position at the Ministry, I was able to restore the family fortune.

Hermione nerves were grated when Malfoy didn't specify about his job at the Ministry.

WW: How did your parents die in the War? How does it feel being on your own completely?

DM: My father, who everyone now knows was a Death Eater, died in battle. He was killed by Arthur Weasley – a fitting opponent, as they both shared an animosity towards each other. My mother, bless her soul, was killed when Malfoy Manor was raided by a team from the Order of the Phoenix. She was brutally murdered. To this day I do not know who her killer was, but I shall find out, mark my words. Her death stays with me always. My father, however, was erased from my life when he disowned me after deserting the Dark Lord.

Hermione gaped at the page, re-reading his answer. My mother, bless her soul, was killed when Malfoy Manor was raided by a team from the Order of the Phoenix. How could this be? How had Hermione missed so much? She knew of the raid on Malfoy Manor – she had authorized it herself – but no one told her of the death of Narcissa Malfoy. She explained explicitly that no one was to be harmed, that this was just a routine search on the Manor for any Death Eaters. Who could have the nerve to disobey her, to disobey her so horribly that he was willing to kill an innocent woman?

Hermione was filled with rage, gripping the edges of the magazine until her knuckles were white. She was shaking, trying her best to suppress the unbelievable anger inside her. Who dared to kill an innocent bystander, especially when she had specifically instructed no harm was to come to anyone? Weren't they the good side? What heartless "good" person could do something so unfair?

Hermione seethed, thinking of the people who had been sent on that raid. Who had been in charge?

Ron.

No matter how hard she tried to defend Ron, she knew she couldn't entirely. She knew Ron hated Malfoy possibly more than anyone else in the world. She knew that if Ron became angry enough, he wouldn't be able to control himself. How many times had he started a fight with Malfoy in school, unable to control himself? Too many times to count. Ron's biggest fault was anger. When he was angry, no one was safe.

Hermione was struck with an idea. She ran to her room and pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. She quickly scratched out a letter and tied it to Rowin's letter, whispering the name of the recipient into his ear. He flew into the night, soaring and hooting by the moon.

She waited impatiently for him to return. She tapped her nails against the desk, staring hopefully out the window.

Rowin finally returned carrying a note and a large neatly tied stack of papers.

The note read:

Dear Hermione,

So good to hear from you after all these years! I hope you've been well. I just heard about your new position at the Ministry – congratulations!

I have to admit I was a bit puzzled by the letter you sent, but here is the information you requested. It's Class A information, but I managed to sneak it out. You've always been a good friend, Hermione, and this was the least I could do to repay you!

Included are pictures of the body and reports of the autopsy. I hope this helped!

Keep in touch,

Eloise Midgeon

Eloise Midgeon worked in the criminology department of the Ministry. Hermione remembered this valuable tidbit and asked Eloise to send some information of Narcissa Malfoy's death.

The pictures Hermione saw were not what she expected.

Narcissa's body was sprawled unnaturally on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her legs were turning the complete wrong way and her back was arched. Her face was pale and her hair was stained with stray splurges of blood.

Hermione wanted to vomit.

She managed to magnify the image with her wand. She zoomed in on the cuts on Narcissa's abdomen. Hermione immediately recognized the gashes as the effects of the Sectumsempra spell.

Taking one last look at the image before burning it, Hermione vowed to solve Narcissa's mystery, if only to put Malfoy at peace.

He deserves that much, she thought.

She blew out the candle on the desk and sat in the dark.