.

.

I'll seek you out
Just to find myself
And I'll worry 'bout consequences later
I hear you out
Till I hear myself
Hear myself in you

Never knew if we were really true
Never thought I'd ever get to you
Never thought I'd end up like this

Never was I stronger than I'm now
Never felt this much a fool somehow
Never had much thought for myself

~Poets Of The Fall, Seek you out~

A few days later he was observing her as she sat by the table her nose on some papers in front of her. It seemed that she had began to trust him enough to bring her work home nowadays. Or maybe it had something to do with her arguments with Weasley. Maybe she was avoiding the headquarters…

He could tell she was having some troubles though. ¨

"Would you give it a break Granger! You're sighing so much I can barely hear the tv!"

She snapped her head up, "Oh please Malfoy, it really can't bother you so much!"

She was angry he could tell, but maybe it was not his fault this time.

"Prey tell me Granger, what got you so frustrated?" He was picking the ice, he knew it.

"THIS MALFOY!" She was waving the papers, "I can't figure this out!"

He didn't dare to ask what was it she couldn't figure, but she went on: "I can't find any sense from the actions of your Death Eaters."

"Didn't know I was the commander nowadays…" He muttered

She rolled her eyes, "After every battle we have a rescue crew to go look for our wounded and casualties. Usually they operate after checking it is safe and there are no enemies nearby. But safety is never certain. It seems that sometimes the Death Eaters attack the rescue group, no matter how long they wait before going. Sometimes, on the other hand, we can operate in peace and no one attacks. I'm trying to find some logic or pattern, but I can't. The attacks seem entirely random!"

She tore her hair frustrated, "It can not be random!"

Her desperation nearly amused him. Hermione Granger didn't know the answer to something…

But his amusement was short lived. Instead there was this battle inside of him: The right thing to do? would it be to tell her what he knew? or to let her figure it out on her own? What if she didn't and she was in the next rescue group that got attacked? An image of her lying dead on the battlefield flashed his mind...

"It's called the Afterpower."

He wasn't going to rot in here if she died.

She lifted her gaze to look at him

"Each safehouse has their own afterpower crew. Not the strongest Death Eaters, usually youngsters, old ones and those unable to fight in main battles. Their only job is to attack your rescuers."

"To get rid of our healers…" She muttered silently.

He nodded

"But they only work around their bases, so if there is no safehouse near, the afterpower does not attack."

She was looking at her papers again. He knew she had gotten it. He had not only let out their tactics, but the locations of their safehouses too. What was he doing? Was he not planning on going back after he was healed?

Voice of his father was yelling inside of his brain "BLOOD TRAITOR".

But he still got up and went to her.

The papers she had on the table were maps. She had drawn red and green dots to mark the places they were or were not attacked.

"Do you know the locations?" She asked, not lifting her eyes.

"Only the manor." He pointed a spot on the map.

Slowly she looked at him, her expression hard to read.

"Draco…" Her voice was slow and questioning

"Don't ask me why am I doing this Granger! I have no answers for you! I'm certainly not picking a side, so don't make this some kind of a…I don't know…just don't!"

He marched back to the sofa and glued his eyes to the TV. End of conversation.

She didn't say anything for a while. Then she gathered her papers, "It's late, I'm going to bed."

He huffed without looking away from the screen.

Her steps left the room, but stopped suddenly...

"Thank you, Draco." She said little louder than a whisper and closed her door.

.

.

.

That moment changed everything. She seemed to think they were acquaintances now.

Where there used to be silence between them, was now her light chatter. Usually he just grunted in response, but it didn't seem to bother her much.

"Come on Draco!"

It was disturbing how easily she used his given name nowadays. To him it felt like there was a whole different channel in his head that seemed to switch on when she said his name. Like he was forced to listen and answer…

"You watch the cooking shows every day! You might as well give it a try!" She was standing by the kitchen counter waving a cooking book in her hand.

"Malfoys don't make their own meals." He sat on the sofa, trying not to look at her.

She sighed loudly. "Well, I'm sure that only you being here is something Malfoys don't usually do. Give it a try! You might find yourself entertained. It's Neville's birthday tomorrow and I promised to make a cake. You could help!"

"Not my problem." He muttered

But after a while he got up. "Fine. It's not like there's much else to do here."

And before he noticed they were baking.

He had been right: it was much like potions making. And they would have made a killer pair in potions. Her movement matched him like they had been practicing for years. The book was open between them and they followed the instructions in sync.

"I thought it would take you a longer time to get the hang of it." She was watching him stir the ingredients.

"I got an O from potions. How much harder could this be."

She shrugged.

"I like cooking."

He glanced her, but she seemed to be talking more to herself than to him.

"Takes your mind of things. Yeah, you said so."

She looked at him surprised.

"What?" He looked back.

She shook her head, "Nothing, I was just surprised you remembered."

"Didn't think I'd pay attention?"

Again, she shook her head curls bouncing, "No, I…Well yes."

He didn't say anything at that. It was not a surprise. Why would she assume he would listen, he never had before. But here, where she was his only company, he kind of had to pay attention to her... Like on her bouncing wild hair… And the way she bit her lip when she was thinking…the delicate move of her wand when she cast a spell…how she got all exited of something and babbled about it endlessly… the look in her hazel eyes when she concentrated…and the subtle sway of her hips as she walked…

aaand he had done it again! Crossed the line! Thought of Granger as a woman, not as an insufferable know-it-all she was…Fuck this place messed his head… He let the scoop fall and turned to walk away.

"What now?" She looked at him biting her lip again.

'DON'T fucking do that!' He wanted to shout. 'STOP looking like that, before I can't stop myself anymore!'

"What is the matter? we had a perfectly good time a moment ago?" She pressed.

"NOTHING! I told you! Malfoys don't fucking cook!" He sat on the sofa willing to be left alone…He should be so lucky…

"I don't understand you Malfoy!" Her voice was louder

and it was back to Malfoy again… Good, he preferred that.

"What part don't you understand Granger?! The part where I don't do stupid muggle things!"

"NO! The part where you don't get over yourself! What are you so afraid to lose? Your reputation? It's only me here if you haven't noticed!" Her chest was heaving.

"Shut the fuck up about me Granger!"

"Or what!?" She was yelling back, standing beside the sink eyes blazing, "You're going to insult me? Spare me! I've heard your insults, old news!"

He bounced up and neared her again so that they were standing nose to nose. She was staring him with unblinking angry eyes.

"You have no idea what I can do! What I have done." His voice was a slow growl as he stared down at her.

"If you think you can scare me, you're wrong Malfoy." She answered with a tone, equal to his.

She was way to close for him to think clearly. The scent of her perfume, the same as in her bathroom, filled his head and clouded his thoughts.

"You think you're so high and mighty. Just when we start to get along perfectly well, you decide to throw this pureblood tantrum on me? It is just a bit of cooking! What's the difference on potions?" She seemed to calm down as her rant went on. Now she was reaching for his arm.

He jerked it away before she could touch him and turned away once more.

"I'm sick of this place and of you trying to brainwash me!"

"Well excuse me for trying to make your stay a bit more tolerable! You know, fine! Let's not talk! Let's not be civil to each other. Let's just go back into glaring and changing two words a day. I'm sorry your highness, I forgot who I was dealing with!"

With that she stomped to her room and slammed the door shut.

He was sitting on the sofa fuming. How dare she!

Later in the evening his anger had subdued, and he was glaring her closed door and the unfinished cake on the counter. Without thinking he got up, took the cook book and began again.

In the morning she found a neatly decorated cake from the fridge. He pretended to be asleep.