I don't own Harry Potter. Bleeeh. :(

AN: Oo, number 9. How exciting. And I believe someone asked for a little confrontation... Anyway, I think some of the old Hermione is starting to show up, just a little bit. But maybe I'm just insane, too.

It was dark out before Hermione finished all the other chores. She avoided talking to Draco at first, because she wasn't sure what she could say. Thanks for behaving yourself like I asked? Thanks for saving my reputation? Thank your father too, the next time he opens his mouth.

She shook her head at all those options and Draco, thankfully, didn't say anything either. Only when they'd finally locked things up and were headed back up the path to the house did he look at her directly. Lucius was walking to his right, a few steps behind and Draco was trying to keep up with Hermione while balancing a basket of eggs. Hermione had a small pail of milk in her own hands. She'd really been neglecting the morning chores recently. Well, no more, she vowed.

"What is it?" she asked, suddenly noticing Draco's eyes upon her.

"That was…interesting," he said.

"Really," she said, her voice low.

"Yes, really," he replied and if he sounded annoyed, she didn't blame him. After all, that had been quite a show earlier and she'd said absolutely nothing…not because she wasn't grateful, but because as the evening wore on, she only felt more conflicted, not less. On the surface the problem had been easily solved, but that didn't mean her conscience wasn't functioning.

The truth was…

"Those fathers are right," she said.

"What?" Draco nearly dropped the basket and Hermione made a frustrated sound at his clumsiness. He glared at her. "You've got to be joking. Those pretentious…this is hardly a championship training grounds," he grumbled.

Hermione smiled sadly. "No, but it's equally important work. And these kids…they need someone with special training. I've had it, but you…and your father, I don't even know what's going on with him half the time. In some ways he's no different from some of the children I have here."

"So you did take courses?" Draco asked, curious. He brushed off her doubts of himself and his father. As if either of them would ever hurt an innocent child. He and his family…they'd never wanted the destruction of the muggle world. That had been Bellatrix, Voldemort himself, Fenrir…they were the truly evil ones. Draco's family had merely been too selfish and when it had become apparent the Dark Lord was bent on total domination they'd tried to get out of it, disassociate themselves. But by then it had been too late.

"Of course I did," she responded and sounded irked he even needed to ask. "Like I'd play with the lives of these children that way. No, I'm certified." She suddenly looked at him sharply as they walked up the steps of the porch and into the house. "What did you overhear, exactly?"

Draco immediately schooled his face into a blank expression. What, let her know that he'd heard about the pills, heard what the men had said about the way he looked at her, besmirched her character…never.

"Nothing, really," he said instead. "I know Dad must have spoken, but I don't what happened, exactly."

She seemed relieved by that and nodded as she set her things down in the kitchen. Milk, eggs, boots by the backdoor. Not the same routine she'd had three days ago. Three days ago she'd taken care of the animals in the morning and then had the day to spend outside with the sun in her hair and plants in her hands. Then the afternoon in the barn, then a relaxing evening with a bath and the telly. Reruns of As Time Goes By. Maybe some wine. Maybe just pills.

Three days ago her life had been uncomplicated as it would get before all hell potentially broke loose. Again, she asked herself why she'd let them stay. What they were doing here, why she was risking her happy routine. As happy as it would get, anyway. Why them?

Because they would have died there, she thought. Or in the hands of some other less compassionate witch or wizard. And she didn't want anymore blood shed. So in a moment of weakness, she'd taken them in and now she was sacrificing her therapy program and the joy of seeing and helping those children once a week for the sake of two broken criminals.

She hated herself.

Hands shaking, she put the eggs and milk away, then turned back to Draco.

"He spoke, actually defended me. It was…touching."

Draco's brows drew together. "That's impossible."

"It's not. He looked at them both. In the eyes. He was himself," she insisted. She glanced over at the door to the living room, where she knew Lucius was seated, waiting to be taken somewhere. "He was himself," she said again, more firmly.

Draco followed her line of sight and grew quiet, thoughtful.

"Anyway, it was interesting, the whole experience, was it?" she said, washing her hands at the sink and then drying them.

"It was," Draco murmured. "But you're not pleased. We behaved ourselves," he said. "So what's the matter?"

"I said already," she replied, shrugging helplessly. "The muggle world may not have any idea that you're prisoners- and I know your crimes were light enough for you to be released under RATS, but they're still children. I have an obligation as one of their caregivers." She paused, looking for the words and Draco eyed her.

"You're not being fair to yourself."

"I am," she argued. "And it's only fair to you and your father as well. I have to shut the program down for the summer months, at least, while I decide what to do. Either you two will have to receive training too, or leave." She shrugged again. "You will, at least. Your father…unless he improves I'll have to trust him to stay at the house during the sessions. But we both know I can't do that right now."

"We're warded!" Draco protested. "You, the children, their parents- the bloody horses, for Merlin's sake- you're all protected from whatever you think it is we might do. Which, by the way, I find highly insulting. Dad and I would never, never hurt innocent children, or muggles."

"Anymore," Hermione pointed out frostily.

Draco frowned and looked very much as if he might cry. Hermione crossed her arms and sighed.

"Look, Draco. Take Lucius upstairs, get yourselves washed. Then we'll have a bite to eat before we call it a night. We're just tired and hungry right now-"

"If you say things will look better in the morning, I swear to Merlin-"

Hermione closed her eyes, put a hand over them. "You'll what, Malfoy?" she said after she'd counted to five. "You can't do a damn thing to me, as you already pointed out. Now get upstairs and wash. I'll see you down here again in twenty minutes."

Draco continued to eye her for a full minute, brows drawn together in that angry, hurt expression and she almost felt bad. Finally he left the room and seconds later she could hear him walking his father up the stairs.

"And Draco," she called. The footsteps paused. "I would never tell someone things look better in the morning."

The footsteps resumed a moment later.

That night the cries were worse than ever. Draco was wide awake when they started, so he knew. It was impossible not to hear those anguished sounds were the result of some bitter decisions.

Beside him in their room, his father stirred some.

Draco got up and made his way downstairs, stood before her door. Wished things were different.

Like clockwork, the retching began after one final, mangled cry. Draco dared rest one hand on the door as he listened. Wished very, very hard.

Then he climbed the stairs again and crawled under the covers. His father turned over, took deep even breaths.

Draco closed his eyes.

"Hermione, you can't possibly-"

"I can do whatever I bloody please, Harry Potter," Hermione responded. "Now don't try to change my mind. I already emailed the head of the program at their offices and received a very prompt response. She said no parents had complained, but she agreed that if I had concerns, I was doing the right thing. And we both know what parents are like. It's only a matter of time before one of them decides he made a mistake." Just like I have, she thought.

Harry sighed from his end of the line and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what do you want me to do about the paperwork?" he asked. He heard Hermione yawn and knew she'd probably been up all night, thinking about this decision.

"Let it go through. After all, if I decide to let them stay then I'll be glad we did it. If not, it's not really extra trouble, right?"

"Right. Hermione…"

"Harry, don't start, please."

"I understand why you're doing it," he finished and heard her gasp.

"Really?" she asked, her voice sarcastic. Harry glared at the phone.

"Yes, really. I know you think you can help them, that you made a promise by signing those papers and you need to see it through. I know you. You hate to give up on anything. But when it's your career- all that work you put into the therapy, Hermione," he said. "It's too much to quit. I remember you calling me, crying because the work was so frustrating."

"Why'd you have to bring that up?" she asked quietly. "I got top marks anyway, didn't I?"

"You always get top marks, Hermione," he said. "That's not the point. The point is that it took a lot of strength and energy for you to make yourself go back to school that way, to interact, to get the appropriate credentials. And now you're-"

"I'm not quitting, not really," she interrupted. "If any of the parents still want to bring their children out in smaller groups, just to visit the horses, then I won't try and stop them. But I can't lead official lessons with two untrained convicts on the property, around the children…"

"You don't think they'd-"

"No," she interrupted again and Harry sighed. "But I owe it to the hard work I've given this craft to do the right thing and keep doing it."

"And what if this isn't the right thing? Merlin, Hermione. If I'd known signing on for the program was going to cause you all this trouble I wouldn't have okayed it."

"It's not your fault, Harry," she replied. "It's mine, for not thinking things through. Anyway, I went ahead and gave them the name of another barn not far away that also has licensed therapists and horses. And I called that barn and just made a wire transfer so the lessons for the rest of the year and over the summer months are taken care of for all the families. Plus, once I feel alright with it, I can always leave Draco and Lucius here and go help out at the other barn."

"You thought of everything."

"I always do," she quipped and Harry smiled, exchanged goodbyes with her and promises to see one another soon, and hung up. But he stared at the phone unhappily for several seconds afterwards, a frown on his face.

"Not this time, you didn't," he whispered. "Not this time."

Draco looked up at the house from where he stood out in the yard, his arms propped on a shovel, a hole in the ground and his father sitting beside it, running one hand through the pile of dirt. Lucius was methodically letting the dirt sift down through his fingers before he scooped up another handful and repeated the process. Draco had only raised a brow at the activity. At least it was a sign of life.

Which was more than he could say for Hermione, who had woken them at six to go out and collect eggs and milk cows. Then she'd fed them and sent them out into the yard to plant some trees at the marked spots while she made phone calls.

Draco didn't bother to tell her he had no idea how to plant trees. He assumed she knew that and wanted him to do a shitty job. Maybe so she could yell at him for it later, he had no idea. Not that she really yelled at him anyway.

What was up with that?

Anyway, planting a tree couldn't be that hard, could it? Dig a hole, put tree in the hole, put dirt back in the hole, water it. It sounded simple enough, in theory. But then there was the problem of the sack, or bag, or whatever it was that was wrapped around the bottom of the tree. Surely that wasn't meant to stay on? But how did he take it off?

His staring at the house had turned into glaring at it and he looked back down at the hole, then lifted the shovel again. Put your back into it, Hermione had said. Easy for her to say. He somehow managed to get another shovelful of dirt out of the hole and onto the pile. His father continued to find it fascinating.

Draco sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and stared at the house again.

Nothing.

He continued to shovel.

Fifteen minutes and one lopsided tree later, Draco had had enough. He looked at his father, who was now on his back staring into the sky under the shade of the sad little sapling, decided he was fine, and marched up to the house. On the back porch he realized the shovel was still in his hands and he tossed it aside, where it fell to the ground with a clank.

Hermione heard the noise and walked out of her bedroom, concern on her face.

"What is it?" she asked, taking in Draco's sweaty figure and disgruntled face.

"You," he said.

"What? It's not the trees, is it? Have you done already?"

"One," he admitted, taken aback by her single-mindedness.

"One? Oh, Draco. There are three more. Do you need some water, is that why you stopped?"

"I don't want water," he replied, voice low.

Hermione's hands began to shake and she folded her arms across her chest.

"What do you want, then?" she asked coolly.

"I want…some answers," he finally ground out. "You, this place, horses? Therapy? When you're mental as a loon? It's ridiculous and I want some bloody answers."

Her face shut down and he repressed a shudder at that dead half, the cool brown orbs staring at him. Stared right back at her.

"You don't have a right to ask those questions," she replied.

"I don't? But I have enough of a right to stay here and be the cause of you quitting something you love?"

The dead expression was gone and replaced with consternation.

"Why do you even care?"

"Why do you?" he shot back. "And what about the magic? Why did Potter cast wards on us you're ten times more capable of casting? Why did you have a tantrum yesterday when I brought it up? If you're going to exchange me and my father for something you obviously care more about, we deserve to know why you're doing it. Just what in hell do you think you'll get out of keeping us?"

"Draco-"

"What are you really after? What are you really-"

"Draco!" she barked and he stopped abruptly, surprised to see he'd taken more than a dozen steps towards her in his anger and frustration.

"Back away, now," she said, her voice hard even though she was shaking all over.

"Granger, I didn't mean-"

"I said get the fuck away from me."

He backed up. She glared at him, chin jutting out proudly.

"Don't you ever threaten me that way again." She took a deep breath. "I may not have a wand, but you don't have to have one in order to do terrible things to people. I know," she said.

He swallowed hard. "Granger…Hermione-"

"Shut up. You want answers, I'll give you a few."

"I can tell you what happened to us, if that makes it better," he offered. She rolled her eyes.

"You think I don't already know? Besides, this isn't like some barter system. 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours,'" she said, mockingly. "No, Draco, I requested your file as soon as I'd signed on the dotted line. Better to know what I was getting into. You were very honorable the last few years, by the way," she added, sneering at him.

His nostrils flared and he started to step towards her again.

"Stay where you are!" she yelled and he froze. "On the run from both sides, only stealing to survive, not hurting a soul except in self-defense. All for the sake of getting your father out of the country safely. Very noble of you."

She continued to sneer at him through the speech, but it slowly faded once she was done talking, replaced by empty sorrow. She stared past him and her brows drew together in memory. He nearly spoke to her then, but she shook herself a minute later and glanced at him.

"I don't blame you for any of that, I guess. I don't see what's so wrong with trying to take care of your family. Maybe that's why I'm trading it all for you, right now. Maybe I just want to see one success come out of the mess that was left behind. At least one person deserves to leave, to start over," she said. "Why not you and him? He may have done some despicable things, but he's paying for them now. Your whole family is paying for its cowardice. And you…you got those scars somehow, didn't you?"

"But why now?" We're not really worth it, he thought. No one else thought so, wasn't that what the point of the scars was? He tried hard to focus on her, to get past his own memories.

"It's been eight years," she began, than paused, bit her lips, shook her head. The strain it took just to say it aloud was too much. Even now, years later. "Six years, really," she managed to continue. "I gave it all up six years ago. My wand, my magic- it's hard enough living like half a person in the real world. Can you imagine how it felt there, surrounded by the stuff that started it all?"

He frowned. He had no idea what she was talking about, except that it had to do with suffering, but that, at least, was something he could identify with. She caught him staring at her and raised her brows at him.

"And that's more than I had to tell the likes of you. I know you're probably not satisfied with it, but it has to be enough. It's already more than I've told most people."

"What about your work?"

"That can wait. I've put it on hold till I'm happy with the situation here. Then we'll see. I won't give it up forever for scum like you, don't worry," she explained. Her words were harsh, but there was a lightness to her tone and he knew she was joking, in her own way.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he replied stiffly.

"Good. Now get your arse back out there and finish planting my trees."

He smirked. "Alright, but you'll regret it. The one in the ground already is…a bit crooked."

She stared at him.

"Crooked."

"Crooked," he confirmed.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, prayed for strength. When she opened them, Draco was looking away, as if he was uncomfortable. It seemed to be a perpetual state between them.

"Then we'd better go straighten it out," she said and headed for the door, rolling up her sleeves as she went.

Draco ducked his head as he realized he was smiling and followed her back out into the sunshine.

AN: Yeah I have no idea what I'm doing, clearly. X