For a week, Hermione Granger kept this news to herself. She cleaned her apartment... by hand. She stocked her fridge. She worked what was left of a broken brush, which desperately needed replacing, through her hair. She went through the files in her office and tidied the shelves. She reinforced the strengthening charms on her many shelves. She made hot tea- and she made time to drink it, while it was hot, but whenever she walked past the leather carrier in her office, she felt that knot, pulsing, stretching, and growing in her core.

How could it be him? There was no reasonable way. She pulled open the file, went right to the photograph and reassured herself once more... it was him. Draco Malfoy. This was his file. This was his handwriting- the writings she had been next to positive had either been the work of a genius, or a madman, until she'd seen the photo... then she realized she was right, about the latter.

There was no way this could be good; Draco Malfoy interested in "where magic came from"? Not a chance. Magic came only from "real Wizarding families." Muggle-borns had no real power, it was all smoke and mirrors. They had no birthright... no place in this society. They were just muggles doing tricks, better suited for the circus. They were freaks. She was a freak. He made her sick. He'd never been open to accepting facts, never mind exploring theories. She just couldn't believe it.

Wanting for peace, she pushed the file off her desk and onto the chair. With both hands, she wheeled the chair out of her office and into the bedroom. She shut it inside and locked the door. "Just for a while," she assured herself. She turned and walked away, shaking out her hands, but she couldn't unclench, inside. She sighed and grabbed her coat from the hanger by the door.

"Can't think of a more brilliant time to lean on family," she said, yanking her hair out from under her sweater and buttoning it up. "Lumos," she directed, wand drawn, and her porch light came on. She flicked off the inside lights and with a pop, she apparated.

The doorbell chimed in the Potter family home and Ginny looked over her shoulder. Lily sat in the middle of the floor, a purple bow over her loose, ginger curls. Her pacifier moved up and down against her lips. Ginny smiled.

"Coming!" she called. She lowered her wand and the dishes relaxed themselves in the sink to soak in the soapy water. Stepping over stray toys, she leaned down and popped the pacifier out of her daughter's mouth. "Only at bedtime, sweetie." She kissed the top of her head and continued to the door, Lily frowning behind her.

"Hermione!" she exclaimed, excitedly, opening the door. Lily padded her way over to investigate. Hermione's pale face broke into a wide grin upon sight of her goddaughter.

"Hello, my two favorite girls in the whole world!" Ginny stepped aside for her to enter and she immediately scooped Lily up and gave her a hug. Holding Lily always made her feel better; filled her with a sense of hope, as if all her obstacles could be overcome- even when the odds and the whole world were against her. She gave her a kiss through her silky soft waves of hair, and marveled at the absolute niceness. She felt whole. Ginny walked toward the kitchen, raised her wand and saw the dishes commence their dance of squeaky cleanliness, once more. Hermione followed her with Lily on her hip.

"So, tell me how the big meeting went!" Ginny pulled out a chair at the Potters' kitchen table and sat down. She opened the dragon-shaped cookie jar in the center of the table and popped a treat from inside into her mouth. Hermione took a seat opposite her at the round wooden table.

"Well. It went rather well," she said, looking at Lily pointedly. Her cheeks flushed a bit. "Isn't this little one getting big?"

"'Blimey, Hermione," Ginny said, chewing.

"What?"

"Why you ever waste your time trying to hide things from me is beyond my understanding." She opened the jar, grabbed another morsel and capped it. She slid the cookie across the table to Hermione, with rigor. It bumped into her elbow and recoiled back from her. "Spill," she said.

"Well... The Department, admittedly, is having some cutbacks this season—"

"Right…"

"And, as I'm sure you can imagine, that complicates things for me, a bit."

"Sure."

"And they just wanted to make sure their finances were going toward something that might serve a greater, well, good in the Wizarding Community—"

"Mhmm."

"So they had to, err… amend my situation, a tad."

"I feel a hex coming on—"

"No, really, it's not that big a deal—"

"I can see the titles now, "The Great Hermione Granger sells out for the sake of Curiosity!"

"Really, now. Let's not get carried away... it's more than curiosity at stake, here." She watched as Ginny made a study of her. She would never be satisfied by less than the truth. Hermione understood that, as it was a quality she mirrored.

"It's not that serious, it's more just… they want me to travel a different road than I had originally intended to go down, that's all."

Ginny stared at Hermione for a moment as silence passed between them. Lily had the cookie in both of her hands, and between her drooling lips. It was beginning to grow soggy, but she let out a satisfied murmur. Ginny leaned back on her chair. "And what might you be visiting on this new and winding road?"

"More of a 'who,' really."

"Then who?"

The front door opened and the women's heads snapped toward it. Harry entered, wand still in his hand and looked between the two of them for just a moment before recognition washed over him, and he smiled. "Daddy!" Lily called. She reached down with her tip-toes to touch the floor and ran to him, the cookie mush left abandoned on the table. It was somehow less cute without the toddler attached to it, Hermione noted.

"Hermione! I can hardly believe it's you. What's it been, two months?" He closed the door, dropping what looked like an antique briefcase onto the countertop as he did. He scooped up his happy daughter and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. He looked around the kitchen, settling into his home. He sniffed the air.

"Been baking, Gin?"

"Only for the last six hours or so." She smiled at him. He bent over her to peck her on the lips. Hermione smiled tightly.

"For Teddy," she explained to Hermione, who nodded.

"Good Lord, how is little Teddy?"

"He's huge," Harry answered. "He left for Hogwarts in the Fall." Hermione sighed. Life, it seemed, did have a way of going on without you.

"Andromeda's getting a package together for him, from us all," Ginny continued. "She misses him terribly. Been popping over a bit more often, herself, since he left. Silly, really. He'll be home in another month for the Holidays." Had Hermione not been so completely devoted to her work, she would have resented how out of touch with them all she was... her Hogwarts Family. But even a full heart could still ache.

"Hermione here's just been filling me in on-"

"On The Department's final decision to allow me to continue my project!" she interjected, her eyes widening as they darted away from Ginny's accusatory stare.

Behind her on the kitchen counter, she could have sworn she'd heard a rustling. She turned her head to check, but nothing seemed out of place, apart from Harry's briefcase. Her brow furrowed.

"That's great, Hermione." Harry was beaming. He set Lily on the table, who kicked her feet happily, and Hermione rose for him to embrace her. It had been so long since she'd been close to him, and though she had never been the type to have misplaced feelings, and could never- ever- think of Harry as more than her brother… he would always make her feel safe. He had that effect on many, she imagined.

But of course it was more than that, and she'd never deny it. No, she may be absolute rubbish when it came to relationships, but she knew she would always love Harry and Ron- if in very different ways.

"You're staying for dinner, yeah?" Harry asked as he broke from her, and too quickly her safety net was plucked off of her. Exposed again, she felt the familiar goosepimples on the back of her neck, the backs of her knees even. She shook it off. You're a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!

"OF COURSE she's staying," Ginny said, rising, a mischievous smile playing her pretty face. "Especially since she hasn't finished spilling the goods on the new terms of this project."

"Oh?" Harry asked, turning his gaze to Hermione. She looked to Lily.

"Where did she get that?" Hermione asked. Harry followed her glance. He smiled at his daughter, happily sucking on a pacifier. Ginny sighed.

"She's going to be a tough nut, this one," she mused. She gripped the pacifier by the handle and pulled. Lily's brow knitted, her little arms crossing. "Only at bedtime, my love," Ginny repeated. She helped Lily down from the table, who toddled away into the other room. The sound of play filled the silence in the kitchen with a backdrop of happy noise.

Clank. She definitely heard something this time. She whipped her head around toward the side door by the kitchen counter. It was as if nothing had moved... the door was still closed... the curtains were still... the countertop was tidy... and Harry's briefcase... had it... moved?

"She is," Harry agreed, calling her attention back to him. "What's up, Hermione? Why so keen to change the subject?"

"Is there nothing I can't keep from the two of you?"

"Nope! Get used to it!" Ginny replied, as her wand moved elegantly over the clean, wet dishes in the sink, spinning them like a torpedo in midair to dry them off.

Harry chuckled. He took a deep breath and looked around his kitchen… warm, yellow light permeated like unwavering sunshine. It was lightly cluttered, and very clearly housed a small child, but it was home. Touches of Ginny's magic were everywhere, as was his paraphernalia: his Firebolt was mounted over the large fireplace against the far living room wall. It was exactly the kind of place he deserved, Hermione thought. All the comforts of a real home. She was glad he had it, now, even if it could never make up for all his lost years. She watched Ginny share a brief but meaningful look with him before she rose and started to organize her dry dishes.

Harry nodded to his left, gesturing Hermione out of the room. She walked with him down the pine-wood hallway toward the front door and past the living room where a large window overlooked their front yard into the friendly Wizarding community neighborhood he lived in. It was just starting to get dark. She really should stay for dinner, even if Crookshanks would give her the cold shoulder when she came home, fat and happy without a snack for him. How he had managed to forgive her for going off to search for Horcruxes without him, she'd never know… perhaps all the snuggling Ginny had given him in her absence had been enough.

They stopped just short of the window, and he looked out. Hermione used to wonder where he was when he looked off like that. Now, she knew. He was where ever he felt he needed to be… always trying to protect those he loved. She considered herself fortunate that she was one of those people. She'd have done anything for him, Ginny, or their baby girl. Even if she had lost touch, recently, she felt lucky to have them in her life.

"So what's up, Hermione?"

"Don't waste that far off look on me, Harry Potter."

"Hmm?"

"Worrying over me. Worrying that I need protecting."

He smiled.

"Do you?"

"I'm fine." But she didn't look it. He looked into her eyes. "Really, I'm fine. Or, I will be."

BANG. Hermione's head snapped toward the kitchen, searching. What the Hell was making that noise? Harry lay a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to him. It was as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"Secrets and you are never a good thing. When I think of all the trouble—"

"That I caused?! That's a laugh! You and Ronald. "Sheer dumb luck!"" She quoted, and they were both laughing. When it stopped, there was silence between them. He wasn't going to drop it, she knew. She sighed.

"You can't breathe a WORD to Ron."

"Wouldn't dream of it. My guess is that it wouldn't fit on a post card, anyway and with him overseas—"

"America has fireplaces. And I mean it, Harry. Not a word."

He paused. "That bad?"

She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face and fell back on the sofa, elbows on her knees. He followed suit and sat beside her, legs together and eyes focused and prodding.

"The Department of Magical History and Research has had a new… investor."

"That right?"

"Yes. A rather… unfortunate investor. I will have to work under—beside him," she corrected, her cheeks turning pink. Harry's brow furrowed.

"Who is it?"

"Promise me: Not a word to—"

"Who, Hermione?"

"It's Malfoy."

For a moment, the air between them went stale. And then without warning, Harry erupted into laughter. Hermione pursed her lips.

"I'm so glad that you find my predicament funny, Harry."

"MALFOY has an interest in 'Magical History and Research'?! The bugger only barely PASSED History of Magic!"

"Now, Harry, that's not quite—"

"Come on, Hermione! Malfoy?! He's got something up his sleeve. He's never gonna make you work with him! He can't STAND you!"

"Really, Harry. Are you quite finished?" She meant to look cross, but she knew he would see her vulnerability, as she felt it creeping under her skin like a disease. "Do you think that hasn't crossed my mind?" She was up, now. She paced away from him, and faced the wall. She eyed a photograph of the three of them, years passed, opening the Department of Defense at the Ministry. Her face was fuller, she noted. She followed the shape of her cheekbone with her fingertips, absent-mindedly, missing that girl for the first time in her life. Doubt had a grip on her that she was all but unacquainted with. She didn't like it. Hermione never went ahead, unsure. Her hands folded in each other and she wrung them.

"He watched his family torture me."

The color drained from Harry's face. "Hermione…"

"I know what he's capable of, Harry, and I know him to be a coward. He watched it. He didn't perform it. But that day, I saw something in his eyes… and reading his notes, I'm just not… I'm not positive that he's quite right, anymore."

"Did he used to be all there?"

Hermione sighed and turned to face him. Harry watched her for a beat, then rose and crossed to a cabinet with child-proof binding spells on its front two doors. He pulled his wand from the holster at his side and pointed it at the cabinet. "Alohamora," he said and it popped open. He removed a bottle of Firewhiskey, half full. Hermione sniffed.

"Just don't tell me I look like I'm 49..."

"You're white as a sheet. Have been since I first walked in. You don't look well, at all." He passed her the bottle. She uncorked it and took a swig. She shuddered. "But you know damn well you don't look 49."

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"Honestly? You did. But even if you hadn't.. there's a poltergeist in the briefcase who's been feasting on family secrets for 50 years. He could smell you from a mile away."

Hermione's jaw fell open. "THAT's the noise?!" She jumped. Harry's briefcase was now leaning against the living room cupboard, banging into it gently, as if mocking her. She frowned at it.

"I think he likes you," Harry joked. She rolled her eyes and returned to the love seat with the bottle.

"The saddest thing is, Harry, it's not even Malfoy that's got me feeling this way. Not entirely. It's my work. I love it. I mean, I really love it. But it's draining. Physically, financially... Harry, with Malfoy's money, I could have my own office. My own LAB. I could do things- larger scale projects- that I can't even consider, now. The area I'm working on can stretch forward and backward in all directions and I can get so much closer to finding these answers. I wouldn't have to just send away to Museums for fossils... I could GO to Sumer, Egypt, and even bloody Stonehenge for more than a day or two at a time. I could be the one in charge of the dig, itself! There's no door in England I couldn't unlock... and we have some of the most curious secrets of all. But without him?"

"I know," he said.

"I can't turn it down," she admitted. He sighed, leaned back in his chair.

"If I was you, feeling the way you do, I probably couldn't either. But Hermione- and he is a coward, make no mistake... he's sneaky. What if he—"

"Don't play the misogyny card with me, Harry. Back in the deck you go." He shook his head at her. She gave him a look. "I just can't let him frustrate me, that's all. He's no match for me, physically." He was silent. "You've faced him, head on. I've twice the wit you do." He gave her a pointed look. "I'd be casting when he was still fumbling for his wand." Harry cracked a smile. So did Hermione. "I'd blow his knickers up over his head." They exploded in laughter.

"Though… for your sake, I hope that's not true." She grimaced and shook her head.

"No one is trying to see Malfoy's knickers." She took another swig of the whiskey. Harry reached up and patted her shoulder.

"That's the Hermione I know and love." She turned on him, grinning.

"You trust I can handle him."

"I do. I just wanted to make sure that you trusted it." They shared a look, and a smile.

Ginny entered the room, a happy baby on her hip.

"Are we done now swapping secrets too delicate for my ears so we can eat? I made chowder."

Harry bolted upright. Hermione rose slowly and made to open her mouth.

"You're staying," Harry said, stopping her from refusing. She smiled.

"Well, bollocks, if you insist."

Hermione walked back to her flat from the train stop in silence, her hands deeply folded into her pockets. Apparition was grand, but walking allowed her necessary time to think. Her scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and her curls billowed frizzily over her shoulders—though she was glad to have it warming her ears now, in this unseasonably cold weather even for late November, she was deeply considering cutting it all off. It hadn't had a trim in ages… and it was well down her back. It made taming it near impossible… not that she tried, often.

She couldn't help but regret leading Harry on, a bit. He and Ron had always considered Draco Malfoy, though smarter than the henchmen of Crabbe and Goyle he stalked about with, to be something of a dimwit. It was the blatant ignorance that got them. She knew better. Malfoy's mind was full of hatred and bigotry, but it wasn't otherwise empty. It was she who had clawed her way to the front of the class, not Harry and Ron, and she was always aware of her competitors, in that regard. She had to know where they stood. Draco Malfoy was no imbecile. In several classes- and especially in Potions- he was at the top, right alongside her. Still though, History of Magic had never been one of his strengths. She had never seen him in any elective courses past the core. So WHY the interest? She doubted it had anything to do with her… not after eight years of silence from him. He couldn't be that bored. He probably didn't even know she was the one conducting the study.

Uncle Rory. Where is he? Her mind wandered back to that photograph. Rory. She imagined the Black Family Tree from so many years passed in her head, but for the life of her, she couldn't picture anyone beside Lucius Malfoy on that wall. There had been scorch marks, she recalled. Or perhaps he wasn't an uncle at all, and it was just a term of endearment. It was evident that his apparent absence had everything to do with Malfoy's interest in the subject. But... why?

And what had happened to Draco Malfoy, anyway? She knew that most of his family had switched sides just before the war turned sour, to avoid their own demise. Lucius Malfoy still rotted in Azkaban. Narcissa had been in the news briefly here and there in the early years of rebuilding, preaching acceptance and donating the minimum amount to the post-war charities and such, to throw suspicion off of herself… trying to keep her head down… trying to make believe. But of Draco? Everyone was glad not to know, she thought. No one was asking. She assumed of course that he was living his dream: mooching off of the family inheritance, and laying low to avoid having to do any of the real work. But his notes had indicated otherwise. Research. Interviews. So many conflicting ideas, it made her head spin. Had he changed his viewpoint on magic, muggleborns, and blood-born purity? Had Draco Malfoy changed? Or had they even been his notes, at all?

The idea of it was laughable to her. So, why the long face? She wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Hermione Granger wasn't sure. She hated it. Regardless of what he was now, he could never change what he had been, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him... but she wanted everything to do with this project. She realized there was some potential it would come to violence, as it had multiple times, before... but if chasing this dream meant punching Draco Malfoy in the nose for good measure just one more time, then that's just what she was going to have to do. Hopefully after she convinced him to spend a small fortune in fossils, equipment, and traveling accommodations for scouting.

She sighed and climbed the steps to her apartment. She twisted the key in the lock and walked upstairs. She opened the door and snapped her fingers, popping on the lights. Crookshanks jogged out to greet her. She crouched to meet him. "Would I disappoint you?" She held out one of Ginny's cookies for him. He purred and took it from her. She stroked his back.

Standing, she whipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. She immediately set a kettle on for tea, stripping off her many layers as she went.

She pulled her shirt over her head as she walked into her bedroom and got felt a renegade button get stuck in her hair, only halfway up. "Damn it," she hissed, as it raged warfare on one of her more vicious knots. In this position, she couldn't rightly snap for her lights. She used her hip to nudge her bedroom door open, and backed against the wall. She brushed the light on with her shoulder. She wiggled the button free, and pulled the shirt up over her ears. She shook her hair out and gasped.

Draco Malfoy sat lazily in her imprisoned office chair, in the middle of her vacant bedroom, leaning against the back and rocking slightly to amuse himself. In his hands, he tapped the leather file carrier, the silk ribbon tie between two of his fingers. He was smirking up at her, and his eyes slunk over her body. She turned scarlet.

"My, my. Someone's filled out since her school days."