AN: Sorry for the shorter than normal chapter. I'm hoping the next one will be much longer, so consider this one filler for that. I've been pretty busy with school and work, so I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I'll try not to take too long!

-..-

The next few weeks passed quietly and without further incident. Hermione couldn't help but feel like it was the calm before a particularly nasty storm.

Thoughts of the war, of what Lucius and his ilk could be up to, clouded her every thought. She threw herself into work to try and avoid it, taking on as many clients as she could to fill her appointment book and keep herself too busy to think about anything other than the success of her tattoos.

Draco stopped by a few times a week, and she went out to brunch or dinner with him on several occasions, but there was a distance there. Their meals were rushed - one of them almost always had to leave early for work or some other engagement. Their letters were even less frequent. Hermione wasn't sure how to fix it, nor did she really have the time to give it enough consideration to find any solutions.

As the current week came to a close, more and more articles bearing her name were popping up in various wizarding publications. None of them were kind.

"Look at this one," Ginny said. She was perusing the Daily Prophet for just such articles with far too much enthusiasm in Hermione's opinion. She read aloud, "Impressionable young minds encouraged to get marked."

Hermione didn't even bother to look up from her accounting book. "Love that they use the word 'marked' in that one," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "At least my name wasn't mentioned this time."

"That's in the subtitle," Ginny pointed out. "War Heroine Granger: guiding the younger generation in a questionable direction."

"Questionable indeed," Hermione muttered. She finished her calculations for her most recent appointment and wrote the amount with a bit more force than was necessary. Her quill nearly ripped the page. "It's not like I'm summoning my clients with dark magic and forcing them to get tattooed."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, or tracking their whereabouts and making them wear ridiculous masks while they call you My Lady."

Hermione's quill stuttered on the page. She scratched out the error and continued writing. "My Lady," she sneered. "Make that the next article title."

"Lady of Ink and Skin," Luna said with a faint smile. "Sounds ethereal."

"Or like a porn star," Hermione said with a snort.

Ginny tossed the paper in the rubbish bin and asked, "What does Draco think of all these articles? I bet he's relieved to not be the center of attention for once."

"I haven't mentioned them." Finished with her notations, Hermione looked up from her accounting book and found both witches staring at her incredulously. "What?"

"You haven't told him?" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "How has that not come up even once? I doubt he'd be that worried about it. If anything, he'd probably get offended on your behalf. March right down to the Prophet's office and demand they retract every statement."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, because that's exactly what I need: a wizard to get up in arms about something that doesn't matter."

"It is a bit odd you haven't told him," Luna argued. "No two relationships are the same, so I can't hold you to the same standard as everyone else. But don't you think you should be open with each other? Have you not told him because it truly doesn't bother you or because you still believe you should handle such situations on your own?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say that it was obviously the former, but the words wouldn't come out. Her mouth slowly shut, and she pursed her lips. Her independent streak was a mile wide; anyone who had spent more than a minute with her knew that. But she had told other people about the articles, hadn't she? Miranda and Jacob had both written her a few letters, and she had told them about the horrid articles being written about her shop. And here she was discussing them with Ginny and Luna. It was horrible of her, but she'd probably even tell Theo if he walked in the door and asked her how her day was going.

So why hadn't she told Draco at dinner last night? Or brunch the week before? Or during any of their many other conversations?

All of her internal rants about Draco not trusting her immediately lost their credibility.

"You have dinner with him tonight, don't you?" At Hermione's responding nod, Ginny said, "Alright, then that's settled. Bring it up at dinner."

"Maybe that'll fix whatever's attracting those nargles," Luna added helpfully.

Hermione very much doubted it.

Dinner that night was less than incredible. Draco had taken her to an out-of-the way restaurant that was quiet and served some of the most delicious Italian food she had ever eaten. Or, it would have been if her appetite hadn't died halfway through her meal. Her thoughts were so preoccupied with working out the best way to bring up the articles that she missed half of what Draco was saying. She felt quite nauseous and truly just wanted to go home and curl up with a nice cup of tea.

She looked up from her wine glass to find Draco staring at her again. Hermione smiled apologetically and set down her wine glass. "I drifted off there again. I'm sorry, what were you saying."

Draco's smile was tense. "Nothing important." He looked at her half-eaten food and said, "If tonight was a bad time, we could have rescheduled."

"It always seems like a bad time." She had meant for it to sound like a joke, but an uncomfortable silence fell between them.

"How are things at the shop?"

"They're fine, thank you."

Silence once more. Hermione wondered when they had lost the ability to fill the silence. Conversation had been so easy before all this business with his father and Ireland got in the way.

Deciding to bite the proverbial bullet, Hermione said, "There are some articles being released about me. Have you seen them?"

Draco's brow furrowed. "They're a bit unsavory, aren't they? I don't appreciate the connection they keep drawing to the dark marks. It's an entirely different concept."

"I agree." Hermione's knee began to bounce under the table. "They're growing bolder by the day."

He nodded, his frown deepening. "I sent an owl to one of the editors, the one I'm fairly certain green lit those articles, in hopes of setting up a meeting with him."

Hermione's eyes slid shut as she fought the urge to groan aloud. "I have it handled," she said, her voice quiet. "You don't need to meet with him."

Draco smiled and reached across the table to rest his hand on hers. A gesture that was no doubt meant to be comforting. "I know you can, but I want to help. That's one of the benefits of having each other: you can lean on me during difficult situations like this."

Difficult. Hermione wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Difficult was being on the run with your best friends at the tender age of sixteen. Difficult was watching your friends and mentors die in the one place you were supposed to be safe. Difficult was having to erase yourself from your parents' lives, knowing you could never return. Difficult. Those articles were nothing more than a gnat buzzing by her ear.

Her frustration must have shown on her face because Draco squeezed her hand and tried to meet her eyes to offer her another reassuring smile. "It'll blow over in no time, I'm sure of it."

Hermione tried to return the smile, but she knew it looked forced. That usually quiet voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to tell him she didn't need his help. To ask why he was trying to butt in to her situation when he worked so hard to keep her away from any difficulties in his life. She wasn't allowed to help with something as vitally important as a death eater resurgence, but Merlin forbid there are less than savory articles about her.

She pulled her hand away from his under the guise of taking another sip of wine. The flash of hurt that crossed his face made her chest ache. Her behavior, her inner turmoil and anger, it wasn't fair to either of them.

Draco cast a quick tempus charm and cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry to cut dinner short, Hermione, but I have to go."

Hermione nodded, entirely unsurprised both at his sudden need to leave and at his lack of explanation. She had stopped asking when he would make a swift departure from their dates, and he had begun doing the same. Their relationship, it seemed, had taken a back seat for both of them.

Draco grabbed his cloak off the back of his chair, stooped to kiss her cheek, and made a promise to send her an owl for dinner tomorrow.

Once she was alone, Hermione allowed her shoulders to sag and frustration to crease her brow. The rest of her wine was drained quickly, and the waitress was waved to bring another glass. There was something oddly comfortable about contemplating her relationship problems alone in a romantic Italian restaurant. She was about to begin a mental therapy session with her buried emotions, when a small commotion on the other side of the room caught her attention.

A young wizard, grinning ear to ear, was kneeling on the ground. The woman seated before him had her hands clasped to her mouth, nodding emphatically, and blushing beautifully. The guests seated nearby were clapping politely and offering words of congratulations.

Hermione tossed a few galleons on the table to cover the meal and swiftly left the restaurant.