I don't own Harry Potter, nor will I ever, thus making me zero dollars off this fiction.

AN: I know some of you practically hero worship me by this point (please, don't burst my bubble), but I really don't have all the answers. And sometimes you won't like what I write. *sigh* Keep that in mind when you reach the end of tonight's chapter, eh?

If both Draco and Hermione were having trouble sleeping that night, Harry was positively an insomniac. A day and a half of watching Zabini, waiting for the Malfoys to make a decision, was driving him mad. Number one, it was excruciating to be at Ginny's flat without Ginny, and number two, he wanted to rip Zabini's face off.

Somehow, he managed to pass the night in relative calm, sitting on the furniture he'd reparoed yesterday; and squeezing his hands tightly into fists to keep himself from avadaing the git in the next room; who insisted on throwing something against the wall in anger every ten minutes.

It was nine in the morning when he figured he'd reached the end of his rope. He'd just gotten up to go do the little bastard in when his pager went off. He checked the number, saw it was Hermione, and thanked all the gods he could name. Then he went over to Ginny's phone and dialed Hermione right away.

"How are you?" he asked as soon as she picked up.

"Surviving," she replied. "How are you? How is Ginny?"

"We're both alright. Ginny's actually talking to Molly."

"Oh, that's good," Hermione breathed. "That's really…" She'd lost her own parents to a car accident when they'd been in Australia that seventh year and Ginny's falling out with her mother had always affected Hermione deeply. Which, come to think of it, might also explain some of her feelings towards Lucius. Not that she wanted to examine the latent daddy issues that interest might indicate. She focused on Harry again. "…really good," she finished.

"It is," Harry agreed. "And the Malfoys?"

"They're doing fine. Draco's kind of taken over things here- not in a bad way," she hurried to reassure Harry. "I wasn't feeling well yesterday, so they let me sleep. All this digging things up…you know."

"I do," he responded softly. "But you're feeling better now?"

"Oh, yes," she said. Harry had no idea. "And apparently Draco has some kind of idea about what to do- he wants to talk to you about it."

"An idea? What is it?"

"He wouldn't tell me. He wants to talk about it with you, first."

"And you took no for an answer?"

Hermione frowned. "I do have a heart, Harry Potter," she said with as much dignity as possible. "This has been just as difficult for them as it has for me-"

"I know, I do," he said hastily. "By the way, I did question Zabini more while I was here. I…don't know if you want all the details, but I have them, now, if you're interested. If it would help."

"No, I actually spoke with Lucius about it that night," she said quietly. "He told me what he knew. Even though it was all secondhand information, I believe him. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Harry heard the shift in tone, the self-doubt and blame that crept into her voice. "Hermione, it's not your fault. You had no idea what was going on. There's no way you could have known, after everything else-"

"I know that," she said. "But that doesn't make it any easier. And it makes my violation that much more-" She broke off and Harry clung to the sound of her ragged breathing. At least it meant she was still on the line.

"Look, don't think about it. I'll be there as soon as I can, alright? Won't be but a few minutes, really. Go watch…Draco feed the horses or something. But whatever you do, don't sit there in your room being morbid. I absolutely…forbid it, you understand?" he finished, sounding as commanding as possible.

Hermione let out a gasp of laughter. "You forbid it, do you? Well, in that case I guess I should go watch my serfs. Make sure they're not mucking things up."

"That's right," Harry replied firmly. "See you soon."

"Alright, Harry," Hermione said, still sounding amused and incredulous. "Cheers."

He hung up and then walked out to stand before Zabini's door again. He knocked once.

"I'm leaving again. Try not to kill yourself while I'm gone."

His only answer was the sound of something shattering against the door. Harry shrugged, reinforced the wards to be on the safe side, and turned and walked out of the apartment. He paused on the landing to lock the door behind him, then apparated away, without another thought for the scoundrel inside.

Hermione wandered out to the paddocks, where Draco was, indeed, busy taking care of the horses by refilling the water troughs. She lifted a hand to him in greeting and he responded by turning away and focusing on the faucet. She rolled her eyes. It was hard to tell if he was still upset over the whole kiss thing, or if this was just his normal, surly self coming through.

"You've been really game the last two weeks," she said as she approached him. "I just wanted to let you know that I noticed. I think it's great. Thank you."

He shrugged and started to wind the hose back up. "Least I can do. What I'm here for, right?"

"Right…but you didn't have to be this cooperative, or nice."

He gave her an exasperated look. What the hell? One kiss and she suddenly was being extra solicitous, as if trying to make up for it. When the only way she could really make up for it was by letting him kiss her again- not that he'd ever let her know that.

"Neither did you," he said pointedly. She flushed some.

"It's nice to know that snarky little ferret is still under there somewhere," she replied, giving him a look that could peel the rind off an orange.

He started to sneer, thought better of it, and slung the hose over his shoulder, then started for the barn.

"My scars are on my back, Hermione," he said. "And they were the result of whippings by other people. I've nothing to hide behind."

His meaning didn't go unnoticed and she glared at him. "And you don't call this behavior right now hiding? I think you're more upset by our encounter the other night than I am, which is a bloody miracle, all things considered."

He kept walking and she hurried to catch up, then swung about in front of him, putting a hand on his chest and stopping him in his tracks.

"Seriously, Draco, what's the matter? Is it my face, or my blood status that bothers you more?"

Draco stared down at her, confusion and then anger working its way across his face. He reached up and grabbed her hand with the full intent of moving it out of his way, but instead ended up holding it to his chest. He knew his heart was pounding beneath his ribs.

"You feel that, Hermione?" he hissed at her. "That's my heart, and it beats the same way everybody else's does. Pumps the same blood through me that it does through you. You think I give a damn about blood purity anymore? After everything we've all been through? Go to hell. I stopped caring about anything but my family a long fucking time ago." And I'd like to keep it that way, he added mentally.

Hermione tried to jerk her hand away, but he held it tight a minute longer, eyes boring into hers, before he flung her hand away and stalked around her and into the barn. Hermione stood there in silence, staring into space, confusion on her face, before she turned about and watched him go.

When he got to the barn doors, he paused and looked back at her. Their eyes met again. His full of sadness, hers full of puzzlement. He turned away and moved into the darkness of the barn.

Hermione swallowed hard and clenched her hands into fists. Should she follow him? Have it out? Or let him sulk?

Then again, what was there to have out? Nothing. He'd explained himself fairly well, she thought…not that he'd explained anything to do with the kiss, not really. Except now she knew he wasn't acting strange because of her muggle status. And weren't his muggle studies still going well? He was soaking the information up like a sponge. So then why…

A tingle up her spine told her that someone had entered the property and she turned about to look back to the house. So, Harry must have arrived. That meant she should call Draco. With a small shake of her head, she started for the barn as well.

She didn't stop to wonder why Harry's arrival had registered with her. Her mind was too full of a certain blonde wizard.

Once inside the barn, Draco's mind assaulted itself with all the stupid things he'd just done and said. What was he thinking, really? Goading her the way he had been, giving her cryptic remarks like he had last night and now this morning, doing everything except being straightforward with his feelings. Ah, but that was the problem, wasn't it- that he had feelings at all when he clearly oughtn't. Or at least oughtn't be having those particular ones…if he could even identify them properly anymore. Hadn't he just told himself days ago, when they were in London, that love couldn't even exist as an idea between them, let alone a reality?

He'd only been with her, what, two and a half weeks. Number one, that wasn't nearly long enough to fall in love with a witch who'd not only driven him crazy in school- and not in the good way- but that he'd found barely tolerable. Number two, his mind was playing tricks on him. Just because he'd seen her do several sensual things- like ride a horse and give his father a massage- did not mean he found her attractive, per se. It merely meant he was so fucking deprived that at this point in his life he'd find any woman who engaged in such activities attractive. Number three, it was highly, completely inappropriate. Sure, other witches who gained guardianship of former dark wizards used them as sex slaves- or worse- but that didn't make it ok. It was, in fact, supposed to be against the rules of the contracts the said witches signed.

And Hermione was a stickler for the rules, wasn't she? No, it was so wrong it practically made it alright; that was how twisted it all was. Her being his captor, in control of him and his father; not to mention all the other issues she had. Not to mention all the issues he had. And then there was whatever in hell was going on between her and his father. Some sort of relationship there, he knew it. Then again, it was only natural, wasn't it, for a person to build a relationship with one's therapist, one's confidant…let alone someone you'd been living with for two and a half weeks.

Which brought him back to the start of his argument and the feelings he was very concerned were going to take over his bloody life at any minute.

He was so fucking confused. It wasn't like during the war, when he'd known he had to do the Dark Lord's bidding or die; or even after the war when it was take care of his father and run for his life or die. This was so much more complicated- and he was so fucked up he couldn't even begin to do complicated anymore.

With a loud swear he threw the hose into its place and then kicked it several times for good measure. There was a small noise behind him and he turned only to find Hermione standing there, staring at him, one hand over mouth.

"Draco…" she began, but couldn't complete the sentence. After all, what could she say? Sorry your being in my care complicates your life, it's complicating mine too, you know. Perhaps we can discuss it over tea, later.

That would never work. He returned her stare, his face red with shame, and then gave a violent gesture before raking a hand through his hair.

"What is it?"

"Harry's here," she answered quietly. "You said you wanted to talk to him."

"Ah, right. Yes, I do." He took a few shaky breaths, let his hand drop. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Take your time," Hermione replied, realizing that now was not the time to ask any more questions- no matter how badly she wanted to learn their answers. She gave a small wave and turned and left him alone again. His eyes followed her as she walked away and he stayed where he was, waiting for the sound of the door closing before he breathed again.

He kicked at the hose a few more times. There was a loud, curious mrawr from below and he looked down to find one of the elusive barn cats eyeing him, her golden eyes fixed on his face. He gave a soft snort and then knelt down. The cat let him run a hand over her ears for a few seconds before she stood and trotted away again, belly hanging low. He raised an eyebrow and wondered if Hermione was aware she was going to have kittens on her hands soon. Then he smirked.

So, even the barn cats got more action than he did. Lawless creatures…and lucky bastards. Life would be much simpler if he could just act on instinct without that damn conscience of his. That was part of why he kept pushing Hermione, wasn't it? Why he'd snapped at her yesterday, why he was sullen today. It all came back to Zabini and the choice that had to be made. He knew what he was really afraid of, after all. He was afraid that even after making the right choice- and his father agreed, it did seem like the noble thing to do- that he'd regret it. That she wouldn't show him even the tiniest shred of decency over it. That he wouldn't see a stricken look on her face, that she wouldn't protest his choice, that…well, he was afraid, basically, that she'd agree with him and that would be the end of it.

That for all his debate and doing the right thing- not just for he and his father, but for her sake, too- she wouldn't see it, or would see it and wouldn't care. And he wasn't sure he could handle her not caring, for all the arguing he was doing with himself.

Because no matter what he was feeling, if it was real, or not, her opinion mattered. The way she looked at him, the way she treated him…it all mattered, and he was only fooling himself if he thought it didn't. Which was why he'd been so cagey with her the last twenty-four hours. He simultaneously wanted her to feel something for him in return, yet was certain she would feel absolutely nothing…and the suspense was turning him quite cranky. Which was the polite term for it.

With a hefty sigh, he rose again, dusted his hands off, and made his way out of the barn. It was time to face the music of his own making. And who knew, maybe his guardian would surprise him. After all, she'd already surprised him with that kiss, hadn't she? Not to mention the way she wouldn't let it go, now. Which he supposed, in retrospect, ought to tell him something.

But he always had been a bit thick when it came to her kind. Bloody Gryffindors.

Harry was just knocking on the front door when Hermione walked around the side of the house. She waved a hand.

"Come around back," she said and he stepped off the front porch to follow her. He fell into step beside her and she was letting him into the kitchen in no time. "I was out in the barn," she went on and Harry frowned suddenly. If she'd been out in the barn, how had she known he was there already?

"Draco will be in soon," she said and Harry nodded and took a seat at the table.

"That was good timing," he said cautiously. Hermione shrugged and started the kettle for tea.

"I knew you were here."

"Oh? I didn't realize you could see your drive from the barn."

The hand that had been reaching for mugs stilled and then Hermione slowly finished lowering the mugs onto the counter. She turned and looked at Harry.

"You know…I can't see the drive from there."

"Then…"

Hermione paled and a second later the kettle began whistling. Startled, she swept it off the burner and set it down with a bang before turning off the stove top. Her hands were shaking a little as she poured the water out.

"I don't know," she murmured. "I…felt it. In the wards."

"Hermione," Harry began slowly, "they aren't those kinds of wards. They aren't tied into you. You shouldn't have felt anything."

"I know." Her voice was barely a whisper now. She turned back around and shook her head. "I don't know," she tried again, clearing her throat some. "Maybe I've gone psychic on you."

Harry didn't smile at her attempted humor. "Has anything else happened? Anything unexplainable?"

Hermione saw where he was going immediately and shook her head again. "No. Absolutely not. I know what you're thinking, Harry Potter, and it's simply too-"

"You did apparate two days ago," he pointed out. "And it takes a lot of magic and a lot of willpower to do it easily, as you did."

"We didn't even end up where I meant us to-"

"Yes, but aside from splitting headaches you were both alright. I think you threw yourself off balance, Hermione."

"Harry…"

"You can't go that long without doing magic and then pull something like that out of your sleeves and expect your body- the magical side of your nature- to just go back to normal. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if things like this started to happen, regardless of your practicing magic or not."

Hermione crossed her arms and continued to shake her head while Harry went on.

"You're the therapist, this should make sense to you- what if what you went through was what was keeping your magic in check all this time? What if it was just buried under the emotional weight of that whole experience; and once you started to actually deal with things and face them head on, it allowed you to-"

"Oh, for god's sake, stop it, Harry," Hermione interrupted him. "That's the stupidest- I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. You're here to talk to Draco, anyway, not me. So let's pretend like-"

"Pretend like nothing ever happened? And how well has that been working for us, so far?"

Hermione pressed her lips together, then walked over to him and set a mug down on the table in front of him so hard some of the tea sloshed over the side. Harry leaned back some, surprised at her vehemence, though he knew he deserved it.

"If you weren't my friend I've half a mind to-"

"Am I interrupting?" Draco asked from the open doorway. Hermione glanced up, features still ashen, shook her head, and then stalked back over to the counter. Draco took in the partly spilled tea and the looks on both Potter's and Hermione's faces, and put two and two together. He decided to brave the room anyway, and sat down at the table as well.

Hermione set another mug before him a second later. Then it was back to her station. Draco eyed Harry.

"Dad should be in shortly."

Harry merely nodded and lifted his mug. Draco looked to Hermione. She was needlessly wiping the countertops.

He looked back at Harry. "So, what the fuck is going on?"

Harry may have spit out his tea again. Just a little. Possibly. He stared at Draco.

"Er, excuse me?"

"Oh, please. It's obvious someone's picked another fight again. I am the reigning git in this household, after all. I can smell personal trouble miles away. Now what is it?"

Of course, his father would choose that moment to walk in.

"Ah, are we all here? Then let's get to it, shall we?" Lucius said. He smiled at Hermione, taking the proffered mug and asking if she needed any help before he also sat at the table.

Draco watched these proceedings with a wrathful eye. His father ignored him. Seconds later, Hermione was seated as well and staring into her mug of tea while the other two men watched Draco expectantly.

"Well, Malfoy?" Harry prompted. "Let me hear it."

Draco licked his lips nervously. Now was the moment of truth. Was he making the right choice? Would it be rewarded suitably, or would he regret it later? There was only one way to find out. With a deep breath and the hope that he sounded more certain to the others than he did to his own ears, he began speaking.

AN: HAHAHAHAHA. And cliffhanger. See you tomorrow night, ladies and gents. (Not that I honestly think there are any gents reading this, but I could be wrong. So, hello and goodnight, theoretical gents!) Also, I hope this chapter made more sense to you than it did to me.