Part Three:

The ministry was warm and deserted as Hermione walked along the second floor. Holding her wand loosely in one hand and her briefcase in the other, Hermione was headed home for the night after a long and tiring day. If she kept this amount of effort up, she'd be head of her department by the end of the month – or dead.

Knowing Draco would be waiting in the lift for her, Hermione sighed. Every Wednesday he did this. Without fail. Honestly, it was like he didn't have anything else to do with his life.

Vaguely her mind registered that he didn't, and Draco was more often bored than not.

The metal clanking from the lift echoed loudly through the hall. The doors squeaked open and Hermione entered.

Draco wasn't there.

Almost sighing in relief, but not quite, Hermione closed her eyes. A nagging sense of doubt settled in the depths of her stomach. It wasn't like Draco to ditch his favourite routine.

Deciding to send a note to him once Hermione got home, she set aside the problem for later. Hermione walked through the Atrium, no longer pausing to admire the golden fountain, and headed for the fireplaces.

Hermione much preferred to use the Floo network to get home than apparating. It reminded her too much of… then. That awful time in her life when she was in hiding.

"Hermione?"

A familiar body was leaning against her usual fireplace. Of course Draco knew which one she liked to use. Why did that surprise her?

"Draco, what's wrong?"

Hermione noticed it straight away. She knew all of Draco's body language – angry, drunk, hung over, frustrated, cheerful, and furious – but now? She'd never seen it before. His pale face, hunched over shoulders, hands in his pockets… Hermione wondered if she'd dare mention his red eyes.

"I've just come from St Mungo's," he said hollowly. "It's my mother. She died about an hour ago."

Sympathy ran through Hermione's blood. It washed over her like a tsunami. A hesitant step forward in Draco's direction and then suddenly, he was holding her. Not crushing her, or holding too tightly. In fact, Hermione was held rather loosely; almost as if he was too weak to hold any tighter. Or as if he was expecting her to pull away.

Hermione dropped her briefcase and wrapped her arms around Draco's neck. For a moment she let him bury his face in her hair and try to gather himself. His breathing was hitched and his shoulders shaking. "I'm so sorry, Draco," Hermione whispered.

"A stroke, would you believe it?" Draco croaked. "Such a muggle way to die."
"Human," Hermione corrected. This automatic reaction earned her a soft chuckle.
"If you say so."

Pulling away, Hermione led him to the fountain and sat beside him, leaning into his shoulder. "When are they going through her will?" she asked. Draco sighed.
"Next week. There's no need though; I'm her only heir. Everything will be going to me, I know it."
"Well, all the girls will be chasing you now you're rich," Hermione joked half-heartedly. It was probably insensitive and really bad timing, but it made Draco laugh, and that made her pleased.
"Everyone knows the guy always chases the girl, Hermione," he informed her with a wry smile. "Besides, who'd want an ex death eater?"
"You can't hold onto that forever, Draco," Hermione whispered. "Do you need any help with the funeral?"

"Just show up. Please."

Hermione nodded her agreement and the pair sat in silence. Draco drew comfort from his best friend's presence – while the pain of his loss didn't go away, it lessened slightly knowing he wasn't alone.

Hermione silently made a vow that she would always be there for Draco, no matter what the circumstances.

Draco realised at the same time that he'd always need Hermione, either as a best friend, a plus one, a drinking buddy, or something else. He depended on her.

Mother did always like Hermione, Draco thought, making his heart wrench painfully. His mother was gone, and he would never hear her talk about his best friend in that loving, caring voice she rarely used, would never hear her footsteps in the Manor…

"Would it be wrong to ask you to move in with me for a while?" Draco asked suddenly. Hermione pulled away from him, looking more than a little surprised.
"Into the Manor?" she asked incredulously. "With you?"
"With who else?" Draco replied sarcastically. "It's going to be empty now with just me and the house elves. And you won't need to be there forever, just for a week, or until the funeral, or… you know. Whenever."

Draco trailed off nervously, not liking the lack of reaction from Hermione. Little did he know that the wheels were turning in her head.

Best friends lived together, didn't they? It wasn't weird. Although, Hermione had seen enough muggle movies and read enough books to know where their relationship would head. She wasn't a fool. But it was obvious that Draco hadn't given that a thought; his saddened state meant he was looking for support, and Hermione was touched he came to her.

"I'll move in with you," Hermione said at last. At Draco's joyful expression, she held up a finger to silence him, resulting in a scowl. "So long as I don't have to pay rent."
Draco laughed at Hermione's ludicrousness. "Of course you don't have to pay bills. Merlin, what kind of friend do you think I am?"
"A bad one," Hermione said immediately with a small smile on her face. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Tomorrow after work a good time then?" he asked casually. Hermione jolted.
"What? So soon? Draco, I think our relationship is moving a little bit too fast, don't you think?" she teased. Draco shook his head, hiding his smile. On a whim, he brought Hermione to his chest and, as her arms wrapped around his frame, kissed the top of her head softly.

"Mother did always like you," he murmured into her hair. Hermione giggled.
"To be honest, I think her judge of character was a little bad."
"Good. I like bad people. They're more interesting."

The two opposites shared a smile before finally leaving the ministry, with springs in their steps and smiles on their faces. The pain of Draco's loss had momentarily disappeared while he and Hermione returned to their normal banter – her company was all he needed as a remedy to his problems.

Hermione moved in two days later. The will was read, the funeral passed, and Hermione stuck around. She enjoyed the luxury of no rent… among other things. A month later, she slept down the hall from Draco. Within the space of three months they slept in the same bed.

One night, marking the two year anniversary of Lucius' death, Draco looked up from his book to look at Hermione squarely in the eyes.
"You know, I can't help but feel like our relationship is moving a little bit too fast," he said seriously. Hermione laughed and pecked him on the cheek.

"That's my line, Malfoy. Now go to sleep."
"Yes, love. Goodnight Granger."
"Goodnight Malfoy."

With a grin on his face, Draco pulled Hermione into his arms. Yes, he thought to himself. Hermione's company is all I need.