"Can I come over now?"

Jane Granger knew by the sound of her daughter's voice that something was wrong even without the extra clue that it was the middle of the working day. Sometimes you just need your Mum and no-one else will do. As soon as it was verified that the coast was clear Hermione hung up and apparated into the kitchen. It had taken years for Jane Granger to get used to her daughter's ability to do that but now it was so normal that she was surprised when her friend's children couldn't do it. On some level she felt they just weren't trying hard enough.

She put on the kettle and asked her opening question for these occasions: "What have they done?"

It was hard not to feel very ambivalent about Hermione's two best friends. If she'd just been friends with anyone else she'd have been much safer. She could have gone with them to Australia and attended university like a normal person; no wars, no death, no torture, no memory loss. It was difficult to embrace the wizarding world with open arms after all that. On the other hand she didn't just suspect, she actually knew, that her daughter had friends who would fight and die to protect her. Like any other set of friends, they had their more mundane problems too. Although, as parents, they'd escaped the Byzantine politics of female teenage friendships, Harry and Ron's ability to upset her daughter had lasted well beyond school. They were the only ones who could cause her to flap like this. Jane Granger silently wished that her daughter would have emotional problems caused by a male of the species that wasn't Harry Potter or Ron Weasley.

That was why she gave herself extra points for not dropping the boiling kettle completely when Hermione burst into sobs that contained only one recognisable word: Draco. Well this was a pleasant surprise! It took about ten minutes and three sugar-free biscuits to hear the whole story

"So it is the boys' fault?" commented a confused Jane Granger when she'd heard all.

"Yes. No. I thought Malfoy was a...a friend. I thought I could trust them all but instead they think I'm some sort of joke. I feel like a total fool."

"Hermione my love, you know that I am hardly the biggest fan of Harry or Ron but do you think they would actually let someone say that and not be had up before the wizenthingy on assault charges?"

"Wizengamot Mum. I work there. No but I also thought hell would freeze over before they'd agree with Malfoy about anything so clearly my judgment can't be trusted."

"And did Mr Malfoy confirm Harry's version of the conversation?"

"Well no but I was so angry when I saw them talking about me again that I didn't want to listen to anything either of them said."

Jane Granger knew there was something deeper going on and that this conversation was well overdue. What she didn't know was how to broach this particular topic so she thought of a distraction. "Lets go for a walk" she said. Hermione had grown up in a house where colourful wellies and sturdy umbrellas were always ready and waiting next to the door. The Grangers were firm believers in the benefit of a walk to cure all ills. Jane also knew that both her daughter and husband were much more amenable when they'd just won something. After ten minutes of idle chit-chat about Hermione's childhood friends and the goings on of the neighbours in the fresh air, they reached a little bridge over the river where Jane Granger strategically lost several rounds of Pooh-sticks* to her trusting daughter.

"You always were rubbish at this game Mum."

"Yes I think you inherited your talent from your father. You know that I don't agree with the boys, munchkin, but why do you think you haven't been serious about anyone since Ron?"

"I'm not still in love with him, Mum if that's what you're worried about."

"No it's not that but you never bring any of these men home. We've never even met Mr. Malfoy come to think of it."

"No I suppose I haven't been very serious about any of them really. They've been difficult to be serious about."

Jane Granger placed a hand over her daughter's on the little stone bridge. "You know that it's alright if you aren't interested in them at all, don't you? If your heart lies elsewhere your father and I will be fine with that."

Hermione blushed deeply "I don't know what you mean Mum" but Jane suspected she saw her meaning very clearly if that blush was any indication.

Jane Granger screwed her courage to the sticking place and said "If you want to bring home a nice girl sometime we'd love to meet her."

"Girl?" Hermione spluttered

"Oh yes sorry, I mean woman, girl is disrespectful, isn't it? We'd welcome her is all I'm saying."

"Mum I'm not gay!" Hermione exclaimed just as a Mr Ridgeway from across the road walked past them with his dog. He nodded to them in a very embarrassed manner and hurried away as quickly as his fat little dog would allow.

"Well bisexual then."

"I'm not that either!"

"You're not? You like men?"

"Yes! Very much! Believe me if you could see into my dreams at the moment you'd be in no doubt at all about that!"

"Well then pet I'm not sure what we are talking about. I thought you were here because Mr Malfoy told them you were gay and the boys finally confronted you about all of your, I believe the term is beards, am I right?"

"What we're talking about is the three of them probably think lesbianism would be a good move for me as a man would have to be daft to like me romantically. It could be a sideways move though, maybe my taste in women would be just as bad!"

"Do they think Ron's daft then?"

"Malfoy does, did at least, until they started having lunches together, now who knows?" Hermione put her head in her hands on the bridge. "I'm so confused. And you think I'm gay! This has been the oddest day."

Jane Granger rubbed her daughter's back. So Hermione wasn't gay, well she wasn't the only one who was confused then. There was something causing this distress, something that was holding this bright young woman back from forming a meaningful relationship.

Jane had been happier with her own explanation that Hermione was in a loving relationship she was keeping secret. "Oh pet! Why don't you stay with us for a few days? Let's see if we can untangle some of this mess" and with that she put her arm around Hermione's shoulders and walked them back home.

Despite his very clear instructions Granger did not appear the next morning, or the morning after that, or the one after that. Really it was intolerable, she was behaving like a child. He had almost swallowed his pride and gone to that ridiculous wench in HR to see what Granger's excuse was but that would mean showing a weakness in their partnership to someone in the department. He would rather have Longbottom wax his chest hair off with a potion of his own devising than allow that to happen.

The meeting with Bones hadn't gone well. He had failed to be civil to anyone and Bones had taken it upon herself to severely reprimand him afterwards. "Get Hermione in here or we'll get some other advocates" were her exact words. Draco knew that there were a majority of his peers in The New Ministry who wouldn't work with him were he not part of the Granger package. They didn't realise she was a snotty, self-important toddler who couldn't comprehend orders. They didn't know she was unmitigated hell to work with (or without said a voice in his head he chose to ignore). They wanted the war-hero, well who didn't? He didn't, he didn't except in a professional capacity!

Draco was frustrated. All his work projects were stuck without Granger. So he was left sitting in their office with very little to do but think. He didn't like what he was thinking. Well he liked it quite a lot actually but let's just say it wasn't constructive. He had developed several detailed and competing ideas of how The Night There Was Noises could have ended differently. It was a strategic thought experiment. He thought out various ways he could have acted and then mentally simulated Granger's possible reactions. Sometimes she slapped him, sometimes she kissed him back and once, in an experiment he'd quite enjoyed, she'd removed her blouse and done a little dance. The experiment he returned to most was one where he stroked her sleepy cheek and she ran her fingers through his hair without waking. It was interestingly consistent. That was why he ran that experiment more than the others, to check for consistency.

This was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to leave him high and dry so that he would miss her. It was such a crude move that it was hard for him to admire it but he was forced to, against his will, because it was bloody working. Flicking parchment balls at Cut-Out Cormac was insufficient distraction. It was fundamentally a lot less fun if she wasn't there to tell him off for playing games. He'd baited the oiks too but he could see her pained expression in his head and it just sucked all the enjoyment out of it. He'd now reordered their precedent scrolls three times. His desk was immaculate and all that ridiculous paperwork The New Ministry insisted he complete to prove he was reformed was up to date for once. Being held hostage by Granger was getting thoroughly old. His anger was growing.

Even his mother commented on his foul mood when they met for their weekly luncheon. He tried to explain his problem but his mother musn't have been listening because her only comment was to order him to apologise to Miss Granger. He hadn't done anything wrong he explained.

"And why does that matter?"

"Are you suggesting I apologise even though it's Potter's fault? I've been the one defending her. She should know I don't think that."

"And again I wonder why that matters Draco? Your work is suffering, your career is in jeopardy and quite apart from those concerns you have become tedious."

"Tedious!"

"Yes. You have yet to ask me a single question about my week or allow me to speak more that two sentences together and yet we are here over half an hour Draco. There is very little need for me to be here it seems if you aren't going to extend your mother the courtesy of listening to her."

Draco harumphed but managed not to interrupt further.

"Are you Slytherin or not Draco? It is clear that the majority of your immediate problems would be solved were Miss Granger to return to work. From that basis you could continue to thrash out any differences of opinion that persist about your feelings for her."

Draco made a small cry of protest at this turn of phrase but Narcissa looked at him with an expression that silenced him quickly. It was a look she had used when he had claimed Potter cheated at Quidditch in school. It said "if you wish to believe that dearest you may but I see things as they really are" all in one look.

"As I was saying your best starting point is an apology. If the war has taught us one thing, Draco, it is the expedience of a well-timed apology, is it not? Retrieve your Miss Granger and then set to work resolving the situation in you favour." Narcissa fussed daintily with her napkin, an indication that luncheon was at an end. Draco rose to assist her out of her chair.

"Remember she is a Gryffindor, Draco, directness and uncouth honesty may be the best way to achieve your aims." With this she kissed his cheek and flooed away, presumably to continue her plans to take over wizarding society, as usual Draco was grateful that was the extent of her ambitions. Merlin help them all if she ever decided to rule the world.

Hermione had gone down to breakfast the morning after her confusing day to find three owls waiting patiently outside her parents' patio doors. She'd collected her letters to get rid of the conspicuous nocturnal birds but hadn't read them. She knew who they were from: Harry, Ron and Ginny. She wasn't ready to accept any apologies or negotiations yet. She needed time to understand why this had thrown her so off-balance.

When she'd stolen the arts section of the newspaper, her father's only comment had been "I hear you're not a lesbian dear. That's nice." He shuffled the rest of the newspaper into his briefcase and said "should any other crises of sexual identity occur bring them to me in my library for I am quite at leisure." It was a family joke to paraphrase Jane Austen at any opportunity. Hermione knew her father's pretence at Mr. Bennett's aloof amusement was a cover for his real concern. He proved it when he kissed her forehead and said "I am glad you are come back Hermione" as he left for the surgery. Since they had returned from Australia her parents had scaled back their practice and were now both semi-retired. They were still young and wanted to enjoy their lives more now they remembered them.

The following days did little to resolve the hurt that she, in her heart of hearts, felt to be unreasonable. Why had she been literally able to laugh off Hardy's ridiculous little speech when it should have hurt, at least a small amount? Why did a snide remark from a man who had called her much worse, whose relatives had tortured her, leave her such a wreck she'd had to retreat to her childhood home. Was it because Harry and Ron were involved too? She simply wasn't sure. Hermione was good at other people's feelings but bad at her own. She often took several days to process what was going on in her own heart. She liked to have some time to herself on these occasions but she rarely got it.

She certainly wasn't getting it this time. Her mother and herself had briskly walked all over the local landscape by day three. The Granger Scrabble War had raged in the evenings and afternoons were usually taken up with ignoring Harry, Ron and Ginny as loudly as possible. She was sure that by this stage local radio phone-in shows were getting calls about the huge increase in daytime owl sightings. Thank goodness most of the patronus visits had happened when she was indoors. She just turned up her music to ignore them. Once it had happened on a walk and she had stuck her fingers in her ears and sung loudly like a child having a tantrum. It annoyed her immensely that they were using magical methods of communication even though they knew she was at home. Harry, at least, should know better. Then she felt guilty for being angry at Harry. He had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that The Order bought her parents house when they sold it under her spell. He wanted her to have somewhere of her own when the war was over. The fact that she had a childhood home to retreat to was down to him and the twins, who had done the actual purchasing. At times like this she was more grateful than she could say. Harry would never want to return to his childhood home so he only had a theoretical idea of how wonderful what he had done was.

Something in the universe seemed out-of-balance when she was at odds with Harry and Ron. She couldn't maintain it long term. It felt like someone had bound her arms and she couldn't move about in the world properly. She had always felt that way. What surprised her was just how much she missed Malfoy. The metaphorical bound arms were a nuisance but her misgivings about her friendship with Draco was like a gaping wound: angry, throbbing and taking up most of her attention. In last night's scrabble game she'd played the words "snarky", "snide", "pureblood" and the dispute-causing "tosser". Even she had to admit there was a theme there. She kept playing back instances from their working life that she had mentally categorised as friendship and wondering how she could have misinterpreted them so thoroughly. She missed what she had come to think of as friendly banter but apparently was just ordinary name-calling. She missed what she thought was respect for her abilities but must be simple self-interest in the forwarding of his own career. She missed them all the more because now she knew not only that she would never have them again but that they had never existed in the first place. When she looked at things from a Slytherin perspective, she could see that she was the perfect partner to reform his reputation and that some pretence at friendship was a strategic sop to her Gryffindor sensibilities. What a fool she had been. She simply didn't want to live in a world where everyone else had been right about him. Ignorance had been a much happier place.

On her fourth day at home she was starting to chafe under the yoke of parental oppression, or that's what she would have said as a teenager. Nowadays she just wished she had a sibling to moan about them with. Why did Mum have to carry a towel at all times in the house? Why did Dad never hear a question the first time you asked him? She needed a plan to return to work in defence of her long-term sanity. In typical Granger-style, she felt a long walk might help. Wellingtons and a cagoule were donned and fresh air was sought for its problem-solving abilities.

After two hours of tramping she had formulated something, to call it a plan was over-stating matters. She would go back to work and simply keep her relationship with Malfoy totally professional. She wouldn't stay late and get dinner with him anymore. She wouldn't ask about his lunches with his mother. She wouldn't tolerate him exercising his "sense of fun" at her. She would clock in and clock out and think about which other department would offer her the best opportunities, everyone needed a good advocate. Above all she would remember that anything Malfoy did was a ploy.

When she could see her house again she was surprised there was a black cab waiting outside it. Her parents both drove so a taxi was unexpected. She quickened her pace wondering if perhaps Harry had taken it into his head to visit in person. She took off her wellies in the hall and called out a greeting. There a small sound of laughter and tinkling china from the front room. Not Harry then. She popped her very bushy head in to greet whatever friend of her parents had dropped by. She wasn't expecting Draco Malfoy to be calmly sitting on her parents settee in a Muggle pinstripe suit balancing a cup and saucer on his knee. He looked the picture of suburban normality.

"Malfoy?" she asked, once again questioning her sanity as she had when he lunched with Ron.

"Oh hello Granger. Your parents were just telling me all the embarrassing stories of your childhood. You know the ones. I like the socks" he replied with a smirk.

Hermione looked down to find she was wearing her Scooby-Doo socks. So much for maintaining a cool exterior when she saw him. She drew herself up to her full height and reminded herself that he was on her turf. "What are you doing here?" she asked in as calm a tone as she could muster.

"I came to fetch you. Susan is threatening to find other advocates if you don't come back. The Oiks may all become mysteriously ill without your restraining influence and frankly I am bored senseless without you. I thought I'd appeal to your heroic streak and ask you to save us all by returning."

Damn him! Damn him to Hades! He was using his most charming manner! And in front of her mother too! Hermione could see her melting out of the corner of her eye.

"At noon on a Friday? It's so urgent it couldn't wait until next week? How did you even get here, we're not on the Floo?"

"I thought the dramatic last-minute nature of things might appeal to you more. I came in a cab, they're really quite ingenious you know, you can hire them for just a short period of time" he explained to the Drs Granger.

"Yes, we know" Peter Granger nodded slowly. He often had a similar reaction to conversations with Arthur Weasley.

"Of course you would, my apologies, it's just that we have no equivalent. You can't even rent brooms."

Hermione looked at her parents and back at Malfoy. They were all behaving as if this were not the oddest thing to ever have happened. She refused to be bamboozled by him yet again. She would have the upper hand.

"Alright Malfoy. You can take the cab. I'll meet you back at the office in an hour. Ask Susan for a meeting at the end of this afternoon." She opened the door to the hall to indicate that he was dismissed. She could see his momentary discomfiture. This was not going as he had planned, whatever his plan had been. He recovered quickly.

"Excellent, Granger, see you there" he said rising and straightening his suit jacket. He said polite goodbyes to her Muggle parents and exited stage left. It was only when she heard the cab pull away from the house and drive down the street that she allowed herself to sag onto the settee he had been occupying. Her parents looked at each other in shock. They had finally met Mr. Malfoy, well that raised a lot more questions than it had answered and the questions were interesting.

Draco could not break through her reserve with him either that afternoon or the following week. She never gave him the chance to offer the apology his mother had advised. She was all business all the time. She didn't even crack a smile when she noticed that he'd found a way to stuff Cut-Out Cormac's cardboard socks into his cardboard mouth. It was almost worse than when she'd been absent. Granted he couldn't look at her when she'd been absent. Looking at her was a definite positive to having her physically present. He was doing quite a lot of it just to remind himself why it was he'd bought a Muggle suit and allowed himself to be driven in that death machine by a Muggle driver. All the looking at her had given him ideas for several new thought experiments he was enjoying but there was some basic Grangerness missing that kept causing the experiments to break down at the most inopportune moments.

Even though she was all business, it also seemed like she was detaching. She deferred to his opinion in all the sticky cases. Each time they finished a piece of work she asked him what happened next. It was annoying! He wanted bolshy, ranting Hermione back. She was treating him as if he were some colleague she was utterly bored by. Him! Draco Malfoy! He'd never been boring in his life! He was at his wits end. Maybe it was time to persuade Theo Nott to mistreat his house-elves again? True, it was a classic but maybe it would bring back some of her passion?

On Thursday, the damn broke. When he came back from luncheon with his mother, who'd let out an audible sigh whenever he broached his work problems, he saw Granger sharing a fond goodbye with Potter and Weasley, complete with bloody hugs, in the hallway. He pushed his way past them ignoring the greetings of both men.

In the thirty seconds it took her to join him in the office, he'd become so enraged he thought accidental magic might spill out of his very pores. She waltzed in as if nothing had happened and started shuffling the papers on her desk.

"So you just forgive them and yet I continue to get treated like hippogriff dung?"

"Pardon?"

"You heard me."

"I did but I don't understand you. I treat you as I'd treat any professional colleague."

"Bollocks!"

"If you have a problem perhaps you should talk to HR about it. Or, of course, you could discuss it with a friend."

"I thought I was doing that." That hit home. He saw his Granger for a brief second before the polyjuiced patsy who'd replaced her returned again. It made him even angrier, if that were possible. She was in there somewhere and he'd have to get really radical to get her out.

"What's next?" she asked shuffling her papers again. She clearly wanted the conversation to return to matters of the law. Well, you can't always get what you want they say. He walked over to the side of her desk. She didn't even look up at him, too intent on her parchments. She had no idea what was going to hit her, oh revenge was sweet.

"The next thing that happens Granger is that I ask you out."

"What?" her head whipped round to where he was standing. He'd never seen such a perfect expression of shock.

"And then you say yes."

"Oh I do, do I?" she managed to recover somewhat, pretending interest in the scrolls once more.

"Of course you do, after all you have a reputation for being exceedingly bright" he said putting his hands on the edge of her desk.

"And then what happens in this delusion of yours?" she scoffed still not looking at him.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, as if he were telling her a secret "Well then I think we'd have lots and lots of really excellent sex. Don't you agree, Granger?"

He heard an audible gulp. It sounded like victory.

When she spoke, her voice sounded shaky. "You don't even like me" she said.

"Oh don't I?" was his only verbal reply.

*My beloved beta and my beloved husband both responded with What the Expletive is Poohsticks? This make me sad for their childhoods. Read Winnie-ther-Pooh please, everyone. You are never too old. You throw sticks into a river on one side of a bridge and whosever comes out the other side first is the winner. Piglet is good at Pooh sticks.

A/N Sorry for the wait all but at least it was nice and long and contains implied shenanigans! I suffer from a balance disorder that flares on occassion and makes life very difficult particularly typing/writing in a moving vehicle. It's been squashing my spirit for over a week this time. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. Thanks for reading, following and favouriting. It's such a boost to get emails from with reviews and follows.