It was the next afternoon and Hermione was back in London. Her goodbye with Padma consisted of a long, ten-minute embrace and tears.

Hermione was preparing soup for herself in Ginny's kitchen while Ginny and Harry were away at Molly Weasley's home. They were there for lunch, and would actually be arriving home soon.

As if on cue, Harry appeared in the hearth, closely followed by a disgruntled Ginny. Neither looked quite cheerful.

"Lunch didn't go well?" asked Hermione, stirring her soup.

Harry snorted, sarcasm eminent. "Not very well, no. We just told Molly and Arthur that we're engaged."

Hermione looked up at him, surprised. "You mean you waited until today to tell them? Harry! I thought you told them the news as soon as it happened."

Ginny flopped down on the sofa, huffing loudly. "The news of the engagement led to other questions…about our sleeping arrangements."

Hermione tried to suppress a giggle. "Your sleeping arrangements?"

"They wanted to know about our sex lives!" roared Ginny.

Hermione blushed, embarrassed. "I'm sure it must have been awkward."

Ginny looked at her incredulously. "Awkward? Yeah, I think telling your parents that you're banging the boy of your dreams multiple times in a day is just a bit awkward."

Hermione and Harry looked away. Harry was coloring slightly, never one to be so honest.

Ginny looked around her. "Well, we are Harry. Hermione even walked in on us. I'm not going to lie and say we're morally innocent people – we're clearly not. You couldn't be such a good shag if you were morally uncorrupted."

"Ginny, spare me the details," said Hermione, motioning a gagging sign. This earned her a pillow to the head.

"I can't wait until you start having sex," said Ginny. "You're going to be a completely different person."

"Ginny, dear," said Harry tentatively, "Maybe you shouldn't be quite so…vocal."

Ginny grinned slyly at him, walking up to him like a cat. She kissed his mouth graciously and said, "What was that darling?"

Hermione was going to excuse herself when Ginny said, "Oh don't bother, 'Mione. I've got to get back to work in a few minutes – they only gave me the afternoon off."

Ginny changed out of her fancy lunch clothes into her casual working ones and flooed to Flourish & Blotts.

Harry leaned over Hermione's shoulder to taste the soup she was still stirring. Hermione swatted his hand loudly.

While rubbing his hand and sending glares her way, Harry said, "Fancy going out?"

Hermione thought it over, realizing she had nothing to do. "Alright then. I'm dying for a drink – The Purple Bar sound alright?"

"Mm yes," said Harry. "Sometimes I think we drink entirely too much."

Hermione snorted. "You're telling me. You weren't the one vomiting all over strange girls at the Ministry Gala the other night."

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. "I'll have to send you to one of those Muggle Alcoholics meetings if you don't stop chugging down that fire whiskey."

Hermione motioned chugging down bottle after bottle, earning a laugh from Harry.

She quickly excused herself to change in to more suitable clothes – her pajamas just wouldn't suffice, sadly – leaving Harry to slurp down all her soup.

She returned to the kitchen wearing a long flowing dress with a long-sleeved white turtle-neck underneath. She slipped into her boots and put on her coat, ready to go.

Harry eyed her. "Feeling Bohemian today?"

"Feeling like an arse today?" replied Hermione, winking at him.

Harry smiled sheepishly at her, his head bowed.

"Harry, you need to stop taking everything I say seriously," said Hermione good-naturedly, looping her arm through his. "To the alcohol!"

They Apparated side by side, arriving a safe few blocks from The Purple Bar, in a deserted lot to avoid being seen. They walked to the bar, both coloring from the cold and eager to go inside.

Hermione loved The Purple Bar. She thought it was the single most fantastic bar on the planet, with the single most fantastic drinks. She had her first alcoholic beverage here – okovita, a strong form of vodka. She remembered being piss-drunk by the end of two drinks and vaguely remembered dancing on the tables. To be specific, the table that an old man was now seated at.

"What'll it be?" asked a middle-aged woman with long gray and brown dreads. She had piercings on her nose, eyebrows, and chin. She had a wholesome, pretty face and was wearing an outfit quite like Hermione's.

"Just a Guinness, please," said Hermione.

"Yeah, I'll have the same," said Harry.

The woman nodded and bobbed away.

Hermione looked around the bar. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Harry laughed, "Yeah. Memories of you taking off your top and swinging it around."

Hermione gaped at him. "Did I really do that? How embarrassing!"

"You're a wild little devil when you're drunk, Hermione," teased Harry. "You do very un-Hermione things."

Hermione clutched her head in her hands. "Yeah, like going home with Malfoy."

Harry frowned, obviously not happy.

Hermione said, "Oh, Harry, how much reassurance do you need? I told you nothing happened."

Silence ensued when the woman brought their drinks to them. They sipped in silence, looking around the room.

Finally Hermione broke it. "Harry, I need to talk to you about something very serious. I've been thinking of how to bring it up lightly, but there's just no light way to do it. You have to promise me that what I tell you reaches no one else's ears – not Ginny's or Ron's."

Harry looked at her, concerned. "Everything alright, Hermione? Did Malfoy do something to you?"

"No, no," said Hermione, "It's nothing he did to me – it's something that was done to him. Or rather, something that was done to his mother. I trust you remember his mother is dead?"

When Harry nodded, Hermione continued, "I was reading through an old Witch Weekly interview with Malfoy – you know, he's Bachelor of the Year and all that – and he mentioned how his mother died. He's claiming a member of the Order murdered his mother when we raided the Manor during the War."

Harry was outraged. "What a little liar! He's just trying to make us look bad all over again!"

"She was killed by multiple uses of Sectumsempra," said Hermione quietly, looking down at her drink.

Harry stopped his rant, staring at Hermione with an open mouth. "Sectumsempra? But no one knows –"

"I know, Harry. The number of possible suspects is lowered significantly now. There are only five people who know about the curse – you, me, Ron, Snape, and Malfoy. We can obviously rule out Malfoy, he had no reason to murder his own mother. Snape, as well, I suppose. He was on the same side as Narcissa. I know I didn't do it, and I know you couldn't have done it since you weren't part of the raid. That leaves Ron."

"Come on, Hermione, you don't seriously believe Ron murdered her!" scoffed Harry.

"Based on the facts, it would seem –"

"Oh, dash the facts, Hermione! You're accusing your best friend of murder!" yelled Harry, his voice starting to rise. Hermione looked around the bar, hoping no one could hear him.

"Harry, keep your voice down," Hermione hissed, shrinking in her seat. "Don't be upset with me. I have every right to suspect Ron – everything points to him. He's uncontrollable when he's angry, he hates Malfoy and his family, and he had the most opportune moment to kill her. He was in charge of the raid and Narcissa was defenseless."

Harry took another approach, pleading with her. "Hermione, listen to me. We've known Ron our whole lives. He might be a bit out of hand when he's angry, but he's never given us any reason to think he's capable of murder. Listen to yourself! What you're saying is wrong and you know it."

Hermione looked away stubbornly. "Until I have concrete proof that Ron is innocent, I – I don't think I can trust him anymore."

"Then I don't think I can trust you anymore," said Harry mutinously. "If you're so quick to accuse your friends of murder, then we obviously aren't as close as I thought."

With that, he shoved his chair back and slammed a ten pound note onto the table. He stalked out angrily, leaving Hermione to cower over on herself to avoid the curious stares of the other drinkers.

Hermione left enough money for a tip and exited the bar quietly, her head bowed. As soon as she was out the door the tears began to flow freely over her face. She hastily tried to wipe them off her face, but they kept coming.

She needed a friend to talk to. She tried calling Padma's cell phone but got the voice mail "Hey it's Padma! Leave a message and hopefully I'll know how to call back!" but didn't feel like leaving a message for Padma, making her worry for no reason.

Once safely outside the parameters of the busy London streets, Hermione Apparated to Diagon Alley, hoping to find Ginny at Flourish & Blotts. She stopped herself just outside of the bookstore when she realized she would have to explain what she and Harry fought about. She didn't want to worry Ginny about her suspicions, and no matter how many times Hermione tried to convince herself that this was the reason, she knew that she just couldn't trust Ginny the way she could trust Harry. This information was too valuable and important to be revealed to people.

Hermione was still crying heavily, sniffing every few seconds. She got second glances on the narrow streets of Diagon Alley. She never wished for an invisibility cloak more than she did now. She hurriedly entered a random shop to escape the prying eyes of the passersby.

It was the Quidditch shop.

Hermione groaned softly but mad her way to the back of the shop. She let out a sob at the same time as she bumped into a taller man. She looked up to see the face of Draco Malfoy, looking down at her peculiarly.

"Granger?" he said, looking at her. His arms had involuntarily made their way up to her shoulders, gripping them firmly.

Hermione kept her head down and muffled, "Malfoy, I really don't want to trade insults with you right now."

She made a move to bypass him but he stepped in front of her, blocking her way. He said, "Granger…what's wrong with you?"

Hermione's head snapped up and she looked him straight in the eye. She said, "Malfoy, you seem to catch me crying a lot."

Malfoy smirked, but there was no condescension in it. "Maybe you're just too emotional."

Hermione laughed, wiping the tears from her face. "I've been having a confusing week. Mostly because of you."

Malfoy was confused and indignant. "Even when I'm not around you manage to find a way to blame me for your problems."

"You misunderstand me," said Hermione calmly. "What I mean is that I'm trying to help you, but I'm ending up making things harder for myself."

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "You were trying to help me? Help with what, pray tell?"

"I don't want you to be upset with me," warned Hermione. "I…I'm trying to find out who murdered your mother."

Malfoy's face hardened and his eyes turned cold. He brushed past her violently and exited the store, leaving Hermione standing there shocked.

She ran out after him, calling out his name. "Malfoy! Malfoy, please stop!"

He stopped abruptly and Hermione bumped into him. He turned around and said icily, "Mind your own damn business, Granger. None of this concerns you."

"Please, Malfoy," she pleaded, "You know what I'm like. I'm too emotional for my own good and I'm a know-it-all who gets in to everyone's business. I know I have no right to be doing what I'm doing, but I promise you – I swear to you – that my intentions are good. I only want to help you."

Malfoy stared at her for a while, his face eventually softening around the ridges. "Come with me, Granger."

He lead her into The Leaky Cauldron, and from there they flooed to Malfoy Manor. He motioned for her to follow, and they ended up in his bedroom. He sat at the desk and opened his drawer, rummaging around for something. Hermione sat on the edge of his bed, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

He finally pulled out an old photograph. It was of him and Narcissa Malfoy. They were both smiling – really, truly smiling. They looked happy. Malfoy's arm was looped through Narcissa's and she was laughing gaily. The artificial sunlight from the photograph reflected prettily on her blond hair, and her face was fresh with red coloring. Malfoy's eyes were bright and clear, a triumphant grin on his face. He looked younger – his hair was shorter and he still had that pubescent innocence about him. Hermione saw the Quidditch Captain badge on his robes and immediately recognized this as the Hogwarts graduation in 7th year.

"You both look so happy…" said Hermione quietly.

"We were," said Malfoy. There was no emotion in his voice. "My father couldn't be bothered to attend – he was assisting the Dark Lord, no doubt. Somehow I think my graduation was that much better without him. My mother could be herself and not worry about my father's constant eye on her. We were both completely natural."

Hermione was standing behind him now, her hands on the back of the wooden chair. "You look good together. Like a normal mother and son."

Malfoy snorted bitterly. "I doubt we were ever like a normal mother and son, but I didn't mind our unusual relationship. It was more interesting."

Hermione said, "Malfoy, I'm so sorry about your mother. The reason I started with your mother's case is because I believe no one deserves to die unacknowledged. It would be an insult to your mother's memory to forget about her death; to stay defeated instead of finding out who her killer was."

Malfoy said quietly, "I know, Granger. Do not think for one minute that I've been at rest all these years. My every day has been about her."

Hermione hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He stilled under her hand, but eventually let out a breath, relaxing his shoulder. His hand slowly made its way on top of hers. "Granger, I…I appreciate this."

"Shh," Hermione cooed, lacing her fingers through his.