Author's Note: There's really a lot more ANs then I planned on having in this… but… based on the kinds of reviews I got for chapter 5, I strongly suggest y'all go over and visit my blog page that I created for my fanfiction story readers at "spicysugar368 dot tumblr dot com." I wrote a post about it that will hopefully answer some questions.

Chapter 6

Forever Hasn't Got Here Yet

In those few brief moments of half-awareness when she first woke up, Hermione found that she for some reason felt extremely happy, comforted, and warm for the first time in years. Within the next few moments, her sleepy mind managed to piece together that this was the feeling that typically came after exceptionally good sex.

As soon as her mind realized just who that sex had been with, and that it had indeed actually happened, her eyes snapped open.

Her breathing had immediately gotten heavier as she realized what had occurred the night before. Instantly fully alert, she sat up in bed and realized she was in her own room… and that she was alone.

Had it really happened, then…?

Something caught her eye on the pillow next to her and she realized that it was a parchment envelope. She picked it up and saw that, of course, it had her name – just Hermione – written neatly on the front of it.

She recognized that it was Draco's handwriting. Yes, then, it definitely had happened…

Her stomach was fluttering uncontrollably and her heart was beating a mile a minute as she slit open the envelope, pulled out the parchment inside, and read:

Hermione,

I have had to leave early this morning to travel again. I will mostly likely be gone at least a week… I have some affairs to take care of. You, of course, know what to do while I'm gone. Send Scorpius my regrets that I cannot be here for him after we gave him such a wonderful day yesterday. I hope you have found yourself comfortable this morning.

So he'd returned her to her room, then. She must have been sleeping pretty soundly if she didn't wake up for that. She looked back at the letter.

On the subject of last night—

Hermione stopped reading again, closed her eyes and braced herself for what he possibly might have said next, not even daring to hope that it might be anything good at all. After a few moments, she opened her eyes again and continued:

On the subject of last night (and I'm sure I don't have to remind you what I'm talking about): though I assure you I thoroughly enjoyed myself, it never should have happened. I am truly sorry for making any advances on you. It was not fair to you or me. While I cannot say that I truly regret it, I can assure you that it will never happen again. Please forgive me for committing such an atrocity against you. I hope that we can move past it and you will continue to stay at Malfoy Manor, but if not, I will understand. I just ask that you wait until my return before you take your leave so that Scorpius will be well looked after this week.

Hermione tried, and failed, to blink back the tears that were forming in her eyes. One, then another, fell down her cheeks, dripping onto the parchment. She felt stupid, she shouldn't be crying, it was just one night… Swallowing hard, she forced herself to continue reading:

Please send me a return owl letting me know of your decision. I will make sure you are aware of when I will be returning and give you any specific instructions you might need.

Yours,

Draco

She sniffled. Yours, he'd said. Well, no, clearly he was, in fact, not hers. Not that she'd ever even thought he was, of course… I mean, what could she possibly infer by last night? It was sex, plain and simple. It had been years since she'd had it and Draco sure seemed lonely so who knew who long it had been for him… pure animal instinct, that was all…

The tears started to flow faster when she remembered what he'd said in the parlor, just before he'd kissed her. "I think you know you're more than just an employee to me…"

Well, okay, then, Draco, what was she? A friend? Yes, they'd established that. But friends didn't have hot, passionate, amazing sex. If not a friend then what could he have meant? A sex parter? A fuck buddy?

She was kidding herself. Since he'd so clearly dismissed what had happened, it was easy to determine that she was by no means any kind of sex partner. Sex partners had sex at least on a somewhat regular basis. At least more than once.

No, she was none of that. She was simply a friend. A friendly accident.

That was all.

If she was honest with herself she would admit that it had, indeed, been an accident. Hermione was not the type to sleep with superiors – Hermione wasn't the type to sleep with many people at all, really – and she certainly never would have thought she was the type to sleep with Draco Fucking Malfoy…

She tried to shake away the anger. She couldn't let those old feelings come back. They were dead, buried, and gone. She was friends with Draco, now. Truly, honestly, friends. They respected each other. And she most certainly could not deny the secret admiration she had been giving him, stealing glances when he wasn't paying notice to her and noticing just how handsome he looked… And there had been that bit with the chocolate mousse…

No, Hermione, no! she chided. Just forget it. It never happened. It's gone. Last. Night. Never. Happened.

She was just beginning to grasp these thoughts when she heard a rapping at the French doors to the balcony. She looked up and noticed an owl and recognized it as Ron's, Jeremiah.

Curious…

What time was it anyway? She realized that she'd been so distressed over Draco's letter that she hadn't even minded the time… Scorpius might even be awake by now…

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was 7:45.

Well, she still had 15 minutes until breakfast…

She got up, opened the door, and let the owl in. He perched on her desk chair and, after she unfastened the letter, stood fast, staring at her.

"Go on," she said, motioning to the door.

He still stared.

"I don't have any owl treats, I'm sorry…" she apologized.

Still, he stared – and didn't even look miffed by the lack of treats.

Hermione stared back.

"You're waiting for a reply, aren't you?" she asked.

Jeremiah ruffled his feathers.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't have the time to reply now."

He clicked his beak at her.

"I have to go to breakfast!" she cried. "I'm on a bit if a tight schedule here… Now I'm sure Ron told you not to leave until I'd written a nice, lengthy letter back to him, because I can only imagine that George told him I was here and this is a nice fat rant about how thick I'm being…"

Jeremiah hooted loudly and ruffled his feathers again.

"Look, I will write him a reply. Later today. But I can't have an owl lazing about in my room all morning. I have plenty of owls here I can use to send a reply. I'm not in a wasteland."

Another beak-click.

"Seriously. The door is that way. He will get a reply. Just not right this very second." She pointed toward the still open door, letting in the light from a golden sunrise.

A final ruffle of feathers and the bird finally gave up, stretched it wings, and soared out the open door. She sighed and was just about to close it when, nearly out of nowhere, another owl took the liberty of flying right in.

"What in the world!" Hermione yelled, slamming the door shut and staring at the owl, who had resumed Jeremiah's post on the back of her desk chair.

Suddenly she realized it was Hephzibah, the snowy owl Harry had bought to replace Hedwig. Some days she felt like Hedwig's indignant nature lived on in Hephzibah. She, too, carried a letter.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Of course as soon as Ron found out, he blabbed to Harry, and now he's ranting to me, as well. Just wonderful."

Hephzibah clicked her beak at her and Hermione could have sworn she saw her talons grip tighter to the chair when she took the letter. She put it on the desk with Ron's.

"No. You can leave just like Jeremiah did. I will not have owls in my room all day waiting for replies to completely uninformed and unjustified monologues about why I am here!"

Hephzibah gave a small hoot and her head dipped a little.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry, Hephzibah, but I've really had a hell of a past 12 hours and this is really not a fantastic addition to my already terrible morning…"

Hephzibah hooted again, flew off the chair, and landed on Hermione's shoulder. She began nipping at her hair and Hermione realized she was grooming her – owl-speak for affection. It seemed silly to be touched by the actions of an animal, but she was.

Perhaps Hephzibah wasn't as indignantly stubborn as Hermione thought.

"I guess woman's intuition isn't just for humans, huh?" Hermione asked, and she held out her arm. Hephzibah, taking the cue, hopped down until she was sitting on her forearm and staring at Hermione.

She hooted quietly.

"No, Hephzibah, I'm sorry. I just can't reply right now."

Another hoot.

"I have plenty of owls here I can use later. I promise. I'm sure Harry's very upset, but right now, so am I. You can send along my regrets. You'll be seeing another owl later this evening, one from here, with my reply. All right?"

Another quiet hoot.

"Okay to go now?" Hermione asked, opening the door.

Hephzibah ruffled her feathers before stretching out her wings and soaring gracefully out of the door into the rising sun.

Hermione heaved a deep sigh, then heard a small voice coming from the door.

"Hermione, who were you talking to? Is Father here?"

She turned and saw Scorpius peeking in her door. She should have scolded him for opening the door and looking in without knocking but right now she just didn't have the energy.

"Good morning Scorpius. I'm sorry, I'm running a little behind this morning… you can come in, it's all right."

He smiled and scooted in the doorway, walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her legs in a hug. She smiled and picked him up, letting his weight rest on her hip.

"So who were you talking to?" Scorpius asked.

"I was having an argument with two owls that decided to pay me a visit this morning," Hermione explained.

"Owls? Father's owls?" Scorpius asked. She chuckled.

"No, dear. Owls that belong to my friends. They've written me some letters that I have to reply to later today."

"Oh!" Scorpius said, suddenly understanding. "Are they important letters?"

"Only one of them," she answered. And that one wasn't delivered by an owl, she added mentally.

"Ooooh!" gushed Scorpius. "What's it say?"

"It was from your father, actually," she replied, and Scorpius's eyes lit up. "Unfortunately, it's not really good news," she finished. Scorpius frowned.

"Why?"

"Your father is travelling again. He told me to tell you he says he's sorry that he can't be here for you today. He said he had a lot of fun yesterday and hopes you did too, and that he can't wait to see you again when he gets home." She was fluffing it a little, but Scorpius wouldn't know the difference.

Scorpius pouted. "When will he be home? Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure where he went, dear, but he says he should be home in about a week. However!" she continued, and put him down on the floor. "He said that I am to be extra diligent with your studies while he's gone! So why don't you run along down to the dining room for breakfast and I'll be there as soon as I write your father a reply letter, all right?"

"But I want to wait for you!" he protested.

"I'd like that, but you know how fussy Dmitry and Davius get if there isn't someone at the table right at eight o'clock!"

Scorpius's eyes widened. "Oh, right!" He dashed out of the room quicker than he'd come. Hermione sighed and turned back to the desk, where there was a quill, ink, and several pieces of parchment, and sat down in the chair. She thought for a moment, then picked up the quill, dipped it, and began writing:

Draco,

Scorpius is just as bright eyed and smiley this morning at always. He is disappointed that you will not be home for a while, but I'm sure he will be just fine.

Regarding the subject of your last letter: it would be positively cowardly of me to leave simply because of the mistake that happened last night.

She hesitated, not really wanting to call it a "mistake," but she couldn't find another word for it. Besides, all it really had been was a mistake…

I am perfectly content to remain governess of Malfoy Manor for as long as you should require my services. I, too, am sure that we can easily move on and continue our lives as normal.

She hesitated before she signed it, then decided that he had used the word so why couldn't she?

Yours,

Hermione

She found an envelope in one of the desk drawers, folded the letter carefully, put it inside, and sealed it. She then quickly got dressed and took the letter up to the attic, where she selected the healthiest looking owl (since she didn't know just how far it had to travel), affixed the letter to its leg, and sent it off through the window with instructions to deliver it straight to Draco and no one else. Though the letter hadn't specifically mentioned what had happened, it wasn't exactly that cryptic, and any average person could figure out what it meant. The last thing Draco needed was for it to be a widely spread rumor that he was sleeping with his governess.

She sighed once the owl was out of sight and then made her way down to the dining room for breakfast.

She and Scorpius had begun their lessons immediately after eating and so it was only now at one thirty, after they'd had lunch and Hermione had sent Scorpius off into the west yard (which she had a view of from her balcony) to play, that she was finally able to sit down and read Harry and Ron's letters.

She decided to read Ron's first, figuring his would be worse. It didn't even start out with her name as a salutation, just went right into the thick of it:

HOW IN THE WORLD ARE YOU THE GOVERNESS TO DRACO MALFOY! What the HELL, Hermione? What are you THINKING? Who KNOWS what he could do to you! How long have you been there? Why didn't you TELL me! I would never in a million YEARS have expected this of you! You HATE Malfoy, remember? He's the slimy git you slapped in the face and resented for seven years of your life? The one who called you every name in the BOOK? HOW ARE YOU THE GOVERNESS FOR HIS SON! I'm inclined to think he's got you under a damn IMPERIUS curse or something! Please, dear Merlin, just write me back so I at least know you're ALIVE, even… and I wouldn't mind a damn explanation, either!

-Ron, you're extremely exasperated and confused best friend!

Hermione sighed. She supposed she shouldn't have expected any less from Ron. She was honestly surprised it hadn't been worse. Knowing there was no possible way to make Ron feel any better about her situation, no matter what she said, she buckled down and wrote it to him as concisely as possible:

Ron,

As you know, I returned to my parents' home and returned their memories to them after we finished the war. It was a long and painful process for both of them, but especially for my father. I informed you of his death immediately after it happened, so you know that I had to continue to stay with my poor mother in her grief.

As my mother got in better health, I began to look for a good-paying job in the Ministry. As I'm sure you have discovered, finding a job for someone who has not finished all seven years of wizarding education is exceedingly difficult. I have told you of all of these struggles already.

I was in desperate straits by the time I discovered Draco's ad in the Daily Prophet seeking a governess for his five-(now six)-year-old son. I sent him a letter of application solely because I felt I had no other options and nothing to lose. I and my mother both were extremely shocked when he sent me back a letter approving my application and saying that he was willing to offer me the job, and with a handsome paycheck. How could I do anything but accept?

I have been here over two months, now, Ron, and I am extremely happy. I know you won't believe that for anything, but I really am. Draco and I are even what I would consider friends now and his son is wonderful to look after. He's very bright and talented and will make a great wizard some day, and I feel privileged that I get to be the one to teach him in his early years.

I did not immediately let you and Harry know about this situation because I knew you would react this exact way about it unless I brought it up gingerly. I can only assume that you found out that I am here because of George, who saw us together in Hogsmeade buying presents for Draco's son. I really can't believe I didn't remember to tell him to keep it quiet, but then again, he probably wouldn't have anyway.

I do hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you, and hope that someday you can accept the fact that I am here to stay and that it is a good position for me. Perhaps, at some point, Draco would even be willing to let you pay me a visit here at the Manor. If not, we can always arrange to meet for a butterbeer in Hogsmeade if you like.

Always yours,

Hermione

She read it over a few more times but decided that there was really no better way to say anything she had said and sealed Ron's letter in an envelope. Now, to Harry's… she opened it and was immediately grateful for the lack of a magnitude of capital letters that had graced Ron's parchment.

Hermione,

Ron has just been over to tell me that George informed him you are the governess of Malfoy Manor. I didn't believe him at first, but he insisted that George had talked to you himself and that he had the information straight from you, so I had no choice but to accept it.

However, just to placate the small string of doubt in my mind… Are you really, Hermione? Did Hephzibah deliver this letter to you at Malfoy Manor? Are you truly governess for his son? All I can think is… why?

I know that the ministry granted him and his mother a lot of forgiveness after the truth of everything came out after the war. No doubt there was some money involved there, too. I know that the past is past and that our juvenile trials with him in school hardly matter now. But that doesn't change the fact that none of us ever truly liked him in the first place, and that he's not really that great of a person, and he never spoke a word to any of us after the war.

So, why in the world… how in the world… did you end up his governess? Are you all right? Is everything okay? Does someone need to come and rescue you? If I don't hear back from you within a few days I may have to send a search party out for you. I'm just worried, Hermione. It's very troublesome that you never even bothered to tell anyone close to you. None of us knew about this. Why would you hide it? Did you think we would try to keep you from going? I can't speak for Ron, but I know that ultimately I would have let you make your own decisions…

Please just write me back. All I want is some answers. I won't badger you about it (like I'm sure Ron did), I promise.

-Harry

Hermione was glad she had gotten Ron's out of the way first. Harry's letter really softened the blow. She knew they both cared about her and were just worried, but Ron possessed far less tact than Harry and so his words were far harsher.

She wrote Harry a reply similar to what she had written Ron, though she thanked him for his concern and gentle words. Like Ron's, she ended it with a petition for them to meet up and see each other soon. Satisfied with both letters, she sealed them both and glanced out the French doors to check on Scorpius. He was chasing a rabbit again. She made a mental note to check on him in a minute, then made her way up to the attic again to send off her two letters to the two men who mattered most in her life.

At least, she had thought they were the two men that mattered most… Her stomach fluttered as she remembered the previous night and she allowed herself a half smile before returning her focus back to her trek to the attic.

An accident. That's all it was, just an accident. A mistake. Nothing more. And that was that.