AN- I know I haven't updated, life has been busy. I've got the next chapter all planned out, though. Get ready for some plot twisters.

Thanks to those who reviewed/faved/followed. :)

DISCLAIMER- it's late, I'm tired, I don't own HP

Chapter Eight

It was late Sunday afternoon and Draco was trying to nap, but it was not working well at all.

First off, he couldn't get comfortable. The bed seemed to have shrunk, leaving no place for him to put his legs. Then there was the fact that he had been suffering from bad dreams as of late and was quite nervous to sleep, despite his tiredness. Next there was the awkward moments where he sat and mused, thinking about work and creating situations in his head where he was a hero in a book. Then Draco had to laugh at himself because he had just pretended that he was a hero. How old was he, five? After that, Draco fiddled with the muggle radio sitting on his bedside table, but all he got was static. Then the light streaming in from the edges of the pulled-down shades was irritating him.

Therefore, Draco found himself lying on his back in pajamas at five o'clock in bed, hand thrown over his eyes while humming a light tune.

Before he could shout 'Sod it all!' and stand up to get dressed, the sleepy blonde slipped into dreamland.

Draco was sitting at the head of the table, picking absently at the food on his plate. It tasted like ash now, everything did. He swallowed the thick saliva that had pooled at the back of his throat, wincing slightly. He wasn't sure if he could go on, the tense atmosphere was too much.

"Draco," His mother's soft voice echoed about the spacious room, "Please speak to me,"

He gazed at his mother's troubled eyes across the table. The blue orbs were swimming with tears.

"About what," Draco stabbed the spiced chicken with his fork violently, "Mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy flinched but did not object to his sudden display of behavior, "About what you must do this summer,"

Draco looked away, his eyes shifting over the tapestries instead, "Mother, I do not want—"

"Think of your father!" She cried, rising to her feet with poise, "He is locked away in Azkaban, all because of the stupid mistake at the Ministry last year! What can he do to redeem the Malfoy name? Nothing! But the Dark Lord has said that if you were to perform the task he has set—"

"Mother that old fool Dumbledore might look frail, but he is a powerful wizard and very well loved by all those Gryffindors, not even the Dark Lord denies it! I am not saying I am afraid, I am saying that if I were to complete the task, which I could do, that Potter would have my neck wrung before I could blink twice!"

Somewhere during his speech, Draco had stood as well, and he had bent over the long table, leaning on his hands. It was as if he wanted to leap across the expanse of wood and throttle his mother. He didn't of course, but the dark expression on his face said otherwise.

"Draco," Narcissa began to walk towards her only son, all traces of anger gone, "We will protect you if angry Mudbloods and Ministry filth come after you. If you don't do this, then the Dark Lord will—" She halted her words abruptly, looking at the ceiling instead. It was almost as if she was praying.

"Mother," Draco was desperate now, as he pushed off the table to meet her halfway, "What will the Dark Lord do? Did he threaten you?"

"It's all right!" His mother said in a falsely chipper tone, "Just…" And then she began sobbing, "T-They'll k-kill y-you D-Draco and I c-can't l-let that h-happen!"

Draco felt lightheaded. He needed to redeem the Malfoy name and not wind up dead. There was no other way out, not that he knew of. Hopelessness coiled at the bottom of his stomach, yet he did not let the emotion play out on his face. He remained collected, a mask of indifference on his face.

"I l-love you, D-Draco,"

It was the first time that his mother had ever said something like that. If Draco tried, he could remember faint childhood memories of the same words being whispered in his ear at bedtime. Those had stopped when he was six, when his father started installing the tutoring sessions to help him prepare for school. They were never pleasant, and often ended with an angry Lucius and a disappointed Draco. It was then that he had learned how to hide his emotions.

Seeing his mother so desperate to keep her son alive and maintain the family name, however, brought Draco's cool façade to a halt.

"I love you too mother,"

The blonde awoke with tears streaming down his cheeks. He swiped at them furiously, taking unsteady breaths so he wouldn't dissolve into sobs.

Suddenly, the phone began to ring.

"H-Hello?" Draco hated the way his voice shook when he answered.

"Evan?" Mr. Linney asked, concern coloring his voice. The blonde took several more deep breaths, calming the sorrow that was choking him.

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" He replied, managing to clear his words of emotion.

"Right… well… I talked to David,"

"Ah," David was the elderly owner of the bookstore on Main Street, "About what?"

"One of the teens who used to work there went off to college recently and he needs another person to fill the spot. I was wondering if you knew anyone?"

Draco smirked, even though Mr. Linney could not see him. It was the perfect situation. He would call Granger about the job, Merlin knows how she needed Muggle money. Draco also didn't want his son to go without anything, and the Gryffindor Princess would never accept money from anyone, especially him. She was also a book worm, and Draco was sure that the brunette would be in seventh heaven if she were to work in a bookshop.

"You know, sir, I might just have a person for the job,"

Draco said goodbye and hung up the phone, smirking the whole time. He would call Granger in the morning, and spring the surprise job on her. The trick would be getting her to take the offer.

The wizard snatched up the phone again, dialing the numbers to Madam Quincie's private phone.

Granger would need some convincing, and Draco knew just how to do so.

X

Hermione stood outside of the little bookstore, frowning Madam Quincie's back. She had pestered her new houseguest into accepting the job.

"Evan went to all that work to get you this lovely job… you need to accept it!"

The brunette groaned, and followed the petite elderly woman ahead of her into the bookstore. Somewhere in the back a bell chimed, alerting everyone inside that newcomers had arrived. Hermione half walked, half shuffled to the left side of the store, where the cash register was. There were two, one of which was being handled by a rather handsome dirty blonde whose nametag read 'Andrew'.

"Andrew!" Madam Quincie exclaimed, throwing her arms up in surprise, "It's been so long!"

The man, Andrew, replied, "Madam Quincie! How is Jasmine?"

"Good, good," She waved a hand loosely about, "Unfortunately, I am not here for social reasons,"

"Oh?"

"My friend here, Julia Smith, is new in town. She found out that there was an opening here and wanted the job," Hermione's head snapped up. She had NOT wanted this job. She had wanted time for herself, just to relax for a few weeks before returning to her normal, overachieving self.

"Ah, well my Uncle is out at the moment, but you may come in and speak to me, if you wish,"

He led them through the shop, which was jammed with books, to a back room, which had soft green chairs in it. Hermione sat in one, relieved that she could get off her feet for a few moments. These damn shoes Madam Quincie had forced her into were ridiculous. She did not need to wear high heels to impress somebody!

"Let's get started, shall we?"

X

"Well Malfoy, I got the job,"

Draco settled back against the couch cushions, satisfaction running through his veins. Obviously the guilt trip worked on her. He pressed the phone closer to his ear as he took a sip of his coffee, delaying his response.

"I thought you said you didn't want it?" The blonde asked in mock surprise.

"I need something to keep me busy,"

Draco couldn't resist the next insult, "What, having a son isn't enough to keep you entertained?"

"Oh shut up, Malfoy,"

X

It was a Friday. There was a stiff breeze whistling through Main Street, the kind of breeze that halted all movement and provided a tension that made the locals feel like something was coming. Something that wouldn't be good.

A tall, handsome young man with a strong British accent stepped off the curb of one side of the street, crossing it. People in every shop turned to look at his crisp white dress shirt and pressed black slacks. His shoes were shined to the point that they could've been used as mirrors, and his watch was of the purest silver. His tie was a deep blue, almost black. He walked with elegance but also carefully, a hand in his right pocket at all times. His eyes darted from place to place, as though he thought someone might jump out at him. This confused the townspeople, as nothing bad had ever happened there, besides the occasional robbery. Why he was so skittish, no one could guess.

The man approached the bookstore, his mind set on the task he had to carry out. He entered the shop, ducking behind several shelves. He then scoped out the area. The checkout line was up front, where his target was talking idly with the other cashier. Several people were wondering about the shop, though it was still rather early in the day.

The man ambled about the shop, searching for a book to buy. He finally discovered 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and took the paperback version. He proceeded to walk to the front, his eyes sweeping over the magazine rack. Stupid Muggle magazines, half of them were ads anyways.

The dark-haired man halted in front of Granger, who stopped conversing with the Muggle immediately. She looked up, a look of panic settling across her features. Neither of them spoke for a moment, just looked at each other. Granger looked rather good, for just having escaped the clutches of Voldemort. Her hair was still rather bushy, though it looked somewhat soft. Her eyes were a gentle brown, though there were bags under them. Perhaps she had not been sleeping well. She was not the only one.

At last the silence was broken when the Gryffindor asked,

"Don't I know you?"