Disclaimer: This is not, and will never, be mine. Shame, that.

A/N: After a leave of absence, I return to writing. It's been a busy time for me, I'm fitting in new additions to this story where I can. But I feel like I'm going to be quite pleased with this one, so I really hope you all read and enjoy it! Please R&R! This is a re-write... just some edits, really. A fifth chapter should finally be up soon!

Chapter Four - Making Arrangements

Hermione was quiet for over a minute. Percy continued to give her time, watching her as he sipped his coffee. She appeared to be deep in thought, tugging slightly at the spaghetti straps of her black cocktail dress. Finally she spoke.

"You want… me… to help you… get back in touch with your family?" she said, slowly repeating his request.

Percy finished his sip of coffee. "Indeed."

"And why should I do this for you?" she asked, her voice now tinged with only the slightest hints of hostility and apprehension.

He let out a deep breath, knowing to be very careful with how he phrased his request. "Hermione, no one is saying what you 'should' or 'should not' do. I can assure you of that. I'm asking if you would help me. I've wanted to do this for years now. I've seen the error of my ways, and can fully admit that it was I who was in the wrong. And I miss my family. Amidst your angry rant toward me, you spoke a lot of truths. I was a jerk, and my family is wonderful. But it's not enough for me to know that now. This is something I can't do on my own. Fred and George demonstrated that fact quite clearly. This will take me time and effort, thought and strategy, honesty and humility and patience and, most importantly, help. Your help, if you're willing to give it."

Hermione continued to drink her coffee in silence. Percy respected this, and followed suit. Having finished his drink first, he patiently waited for her to catch up to him. He stood up when she did, and he followed her as she still silently walked out of the Starbucks, into the street.

After quietly walking by her side for over two blocks, she, at long last, broke their silence.

"Maybe… maybe I can help you."

Percy turned to see that Hermione had stopped, and was looking at him with the first kind expression he had seen on her face all night. It wasn't a smile, but he could see in her eyes that she no longer wanted to tear him limb from limb – rather, he could see genuine pity.

'I'll take what I can get,' Percy thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "Thank you, Hermione. I couldn't possibly express what this means to me."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't overdo it, Percy," she replied, brushing off his gratitude. "Now how exactly did you want to do this?"

"I'm sorry?" he questioned.

"Well, I'm a very busy person. I work very long hours at the Prophet, and I do try to make time for my friends as well. At times it seems my work allows me only a meagre social life at best. I trust that the Ministry keeps you equally busy?"

Percy nodded. "You would not be wrong about that."

"So," Hermione continued, "I assume that if you are serious about this, then it would be best to schedule regular meetings to figure out how we will accomplish your goals. You are serious about this, are you not?"

He nodded more enthusiastically. "Very much so."

"Right then. Would bi-weekly meetings be enough for you?" she asked, pulling out a small agenda. She was flipping through the pages, and looked up to see that Percy was flicking through an identical calendar.

"I'd prefer weekly, if you wouldn't mind," he answered, licking the tip of his quill.

'He would, wouldn't he,' she mused to herself. "Very well. Lunches, then. Sundays. It's the slowest day of my week, right after the big paper goes out. I practically never have to work that day, lest something big happens that requires my attention. And you're government, so you'll have that day free too. But we're not starting this Sunday; our first meeting will be the week after. We can determine the location by owl the day before," Hermione asserted matter-of-factly. This was a favour, but it would be done her way, or not at all.

Percy was obviously aware of this as he scribbled quickly into his organizer. "That is perfectly satisfactory. Thank you for this, Hermione," he said.

She furrowed her brow. "You can thank me when we start seeing some results."

He folded his arms. "Now how do you suggest we go about this?"

Hermione sighed, and ran a hand through her curls. "It's late, Percy. It's late and I'm drained. This whole of this evening has been, needless to say, unexpected and exhausting. We'll think, okay? We'll brainstorm, and discuss it when we meet. But right now, I think the street is quiet enough for Apparition, and I'd quite like to get home."

He nodded. "I understand. I know I keep saying it, but thank you. It's been a long time since… That part of my life, well, I… It really means…"

Hermione held up her hand, indicating for him to silence his stammered par-statements. "It's okay, Percy. I know."

He closed his mouth, and moved just slightly toward her for a mere instant. Then, seeming to think the better of it, he held out his hand. "Good night, Hermione."

Agreeably, she shook his hand. "Good night, Percy," and upon letting go, Apparated home with a loud crack!

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of her darkened bedroom, Hermione mulled over the bizarre events of the evening. Running into Percy, of all people, for an interview, of all things, had been startling, to say the least. She recollected the hate-filled rage she was feeling towards him mere hours ago. Somehow, that anger had dissipated after hearing him out. He, like everyone else she knew, was not absolved from the pain and loss of the Dark War and its aftermath. And being able to vent the hurt she felt on behalf of herself and Harry and the entire Weasley clan probably helped clear her mind, too.

'But I'm not his family,' she thought to herself. 'I wonder if they'll be able to forgive him. What can we do? What can he do? They say that time heals all wounds…. Has enough passed in order for Percy to be forgiven? He does seem as though he's ready to work for this. And he really acted different, still a little formal and professional and generally Percy-like, but less… tightly wound. It's definitely an improvement. But he also seemed to be a desperate man. Perhaps the Weasleys will be able to see that, to look past the pomp and show of the old Percy and see a man ready to repent for his mistakes.'

She pulled her covers up higher, and rolled onto her side. Her eyes fluttered shut as she slowly began to drift off to sleep. This would be a major project in her already-busy life. But it wouldn't necessarily be impossible. There were many old wounds, but with some help, they may heal.

After all, hers already had started to.