A/N: Readers that are still with me: here are 7,500 words for you! I know, I know, I promised more, but I got back from a month without internet access yesterday and typed this all up in a fury this morning, and I figured, well, here you go to know I am still alive and have every intention of finishing this story!

Oh, and I re-read all of my old chapters, and I apologize for any dropped plot lines or confusing sentences that I winced at. Perhaps one day I'll go back and edit them out. I was so inconsistent with Draco's knowledge of Muggle phones; one chapter he knew what they were and disapproved, the next he had no idea what it was, and the next he had some totally new idea. I apologize!

Anyway, go have a read and tell me what you think!

Monday

9:30 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He hadn't been able to hear her thoughts.

Her emotions, sure, he felt subtly, as if the reactions he was used to picking up were tinged with real feeling. He could tell when she was angry by the way her eyebrows lifted and her chin jutted forward, just so, her face a mask of defiant disbelief, as if she were questioning his decision to make her upset. Before last night, he had been able to feel her anger as if he himself was outraged, but it was different now. Her emotions were undeniably hers, and he struggled to name the sensation they carried. It was almost a visual thing, though he theorized that manifested because of his perceptive nature. He had always been able to see interactions and how they changed people. Draco had hoped that, after the bond was completed, he would be able to hear every thought Granger had, but to no avail.

He could only pray that it worked both ways.

Draco stretched luxuriously, feeling the bones crick in his neck and back. He surveyed his surroundings, freezing when he noticed a change.

Somebody had re-arranged his books.

He mentally ran through the list of people capable of breaking into his penthouse. Daphne and Theo probably could, if the pair were determined, and Narcissa was at the top of the list. But, when would the intruder have come?

After the...events of last night, Granger had begun retreating into herself. He could tell, even without the influx of emotions coming his way, that she was shutting down, trying to run away. So he'd hexed her. A Sleeping Spell or five later, she was snoring peacefully and he was on his way to mull over the events in his own bed.

Tired and overwhelmed, he had only ran through a few cursory detection spells before taking a shower and collapsing into bed. Draco had spent nearly half an hour sorting his thoughts and emotions, placing them in their proper categorization beneath his mental shields. Now, with a resigned sense of disappointment, Draco conceded that he had probably been too wrapped up in this mental exercise to notice a subtle intruder. If such a person had broken in during this time and left the wards open, he or she could have possibly snuck in once Draco had fallen asleep.

"Dammit!" Draco passed a hand over his face. This was why he adhered to an extremely strict security procedure! One lapse and somebody would enter his home!

The next thing to do, quite logically, was to determine whether anything had been stolen. Draco cracked his knuckles and rolled out of bed, walking quickly over to the place where a slim, red leather book had been switched with another of identical shape and size. Nobody would notice, of course, if they weren't aware of the numerous glamours placed on each book. He had shelves and shelves of "identical" books, organized in a method only he could decipher.

Paranoid, yes, but he had cause to be.

Any lingering thoughts of Granger fled Draco's mind, and the man started casting strings of spells, some nonverbal and some quite out loud. He passed his wand over the book that was moved, and his wand clattered to the floor as a sharp sting ran through his hand.

Draco muttered an expletive, partly in response to the pain and partly because that simple spell had revealed the intruder's identity far quicker that he'd anticipated. He recognized that spell, as he'd helped develop the bloody thing. Biting his lip, face stony, Draco turned to the next shelf and repeated the process, hoping beyond hope that he'd detect another presence to explain away his discovery.

Only after he'd detected the entire room, and directed his elves to search the rest of the flat, did Draco cease checking and move to get changed. He was still standing shirtless, clad only in boxers, after all. Not a suitable attire if he had to confront one of his dearest friends.

Monday

10:01 AM

(Theodore Nott's P.O.V)

Theo had never seen Draco quite like this before.

Oh, he looked impeccable, that was hardly to be denied. Theo's sharp eyes took in every detail of Draco's clothing, noting the imposing aura they gave. However, he hadn't spent the majority of his life observing people for no reason, and Theo found it very easy to sense the tension and agitation rolling off his friend where others would have dismissed it.

Theo knew better than to simply inquire to what the cause of the problem was. Instead, he stepped back from his front door and allowed Draco to come inside without question. "You caught me at a bad time," Theo said conversationally. "I was just conducting a set of experiments on the people walking below."

As he'd thought, this prompted a fleeting smile from his friend. Draco knew of Theo's "people-watching" hobby, as Theo had infected Draco with it as well. The two had spent countless hours in some café or building, watching people pass by and guessing as to what their next actions would be.

"What is it this time?" Draco said, his posture minimally more relaxed.

Theo led the way into his warmed terrace where they could spy on those below. "It was a nasty breakup," he confided, sitting down in his chair and picking up an abandoned scone. "Though I believe the pair has departed by now, aided by a very subtle Lust charm."

Draco snorted and leaned back. "Kinky."

"What can I say?" Theo shrugged, allowing a small smile to play on his lips. "I anticipate their relationship's renewal by Wednesday."

"With no outside help, of course."

He laughed and made another sardonic comment as his house elf appeared, unbidden, with more snacks and tea. A few well placed comments from Theo, as well as two scones covered in raspberry jam, had relaxed Draco enough for the other man to launch his comment.

"Is it Daphne, or Narcissa?"

He saw Draco stiffen, searching his face for any signs of manipulation or disloyalty. He dropped his masks and left his expression open, honest, and finally Draco sighed and replied, "I think Daphne broke into my house yesterday, Theo."

Well, shit. What the hell was she thinking? Theo wanted to shake his female friend until she realized that, while Draco was in this mood, until him and Granger had some semblances of happiness, she couldn't fuck around with him. The whole relationship with Zabini, well, Theo suspected was a childish way of making Draco notice her. It was exactly what Draco did not need right now.

"Blaise Zabini," Theo commented, his mind jumping to the one weak link in this scenario. He hoped fervantly, for both his best friends' sakes, that it was the slimeball that was responsible for the Incident.

"It was definitely Daphne's magical signature, Theo, not to mention her spell." His words were precise, measured, and Theo's worry level was upped a notch.

"What did she take?"

Draco bit his lip, and Theo almost missed the sudden flash of fear that ran across his face. His words, however, held only a slight curiosity and irritation. "Nothing, she just rearranged my books."

Theo mentally frowned. Draco wasn't afraid, he knew that much. No, the other man was annoyed and betrayed, but not scared, and certainly not uneasy enough to warrant his bloody terrified look. "What's picking at you, then?" Translation: Why are you afraid?

Draco, for once, didn't stop to compose a structured response. "I don't understand why she's acting like this!" He was up and pacing nearly before Theo could blink, reminding the latter once again of how dangerous Draco could be when upset. Years of conditioning and months of torture under the Dark Lord had done that to him. But, he reminded himself, those same years hardened Draco's self control even further.

"She wants you to notice," Theo said calmly, keeping a cautionary hand on his wand. "Don't."

Draco didn't verbalize his question, but the intent was clear in the way he cocked his eyebrow at Theo.

"Just ignore it, reinforce your wands. Spend time with Granger. Let me take care of Daph."

Draco, quite obviously, did not like this idea. Theo anticipated an argument and tensed in preparation, but his friend surprised him once again by collapsing into his chair. "I knocked Granger out with a spell and left," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "She's bloody pissed, I can feel it."

He tried not to laugh. "How's the bond, then?"

"I can still feel her emotions," Draco said, and accoied another scone towards him. "She's terrified. Doesn't know what to expect." Neither do I.

Theo didn't comment, only nodding slightly to let his friend know that the hidden message was received as well. So, Draco was scared - who wouldn't be, in that situation? Instead, Theo turned the topic to safer matters, sensing his friend's need to retreat. Draco was always like this after he'd revealed even the slightest bit of insecurity. "It is Monday, Draco, you're expected at work. I have a meeting at eleven."

"I have a meeting at...10:30, blast it, it's the stupid budget. I don't know where all that money is disappearing to."

Theo checked his watch. "You have five minutes, and you look like shit."

Draco laughed genuinely. "Thanks, Theo," he said sarcastically, but Theo knew perfectly well that the words of appreciation were for much more than he let on. That was how they operated, how most Slytherins operated, padding their sardonic comments with deeper meaning.

Theo simply nodded his head. "Now, after you've eaten all my lovely scones, go make some money."

"I'm the boss, not you," Draco said, a small smile playing around his lips, before he apparated out.

Theo sighed and stretched and stood. Dealing with Draco was occasionally exhausting, but his friend had done so much more for him, so who was he to complain? Without Draco, well, Theo shuddered to think of his future.

Stop thinking about the past, Theodore, you have to go snap Daphne out of her insanity.

Monday

10:45 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He had two major problems to contend with at the moment: 1) Daphne wasn't at work and 2) Granger hadn't contacted him, even though he knew she was awake.

He couldn't figure out which to be more irritated at. On one hand, Daphne clearly skipping out on a budget meeting where there were hundreds, thousands of galleons on the line was simply unacceptable! On the other, he hadn't expected Granger to be so disinterested in him after they'd bonded. Earlier, he had felt a burst of fear and unease that, quite honestly, he could emphasize with - where the bloody hell were they supposed to go from here? - and had expected a short missive demanding his presence so they could discuss the problem. Instead, he only had to deal with her rapidly changing emotions, that had quickly given him a headache as he tried to puzzle out what to do next alongside with Granger.

He didn't want to approach her, that was for sure. How could he, after he'd humiliated himself last night knocking at her door? No, it was her turn to seek him out, and if she didn't, well, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Which to pick, however, was the main question; he didn't know her all that well, after all, even with the extra advantage. Would she get so jealous as to confront him, if she saw him with another woman? Or would that simply drive her to ignore him more? He didn't know, and that infuriated him to no end.

But, Daphne!

Draco groaned to himself inaudibly. Torn between two woman. Heh. Heh. Draco could handle a number of things simultaneously, but the situations concerning Daphne and Granger, in addition to all the other worries and concerns that accompanied Sleeping Dragon, not to mention his anxiety about his mother, well, even he was a bit overwhelmed.

"...we expect a five percent increase in profits by the end of this fiscal year, namely by 30th of June, which, as we all know, is only about a month away..."

Was it already nearly June? Damn, that meant it was his birthday in...Draco ran some mental calculations...six days! Fuck! He hadn't even started to plan that shit! It had to top last year's, when he'd left at midnight for his first visit to the park. Speaking of which...

He hadn't been to the park in days. Was she still going? Or was he getting better at resisting the bond?

The man to Draco's left cleared his throat and began shuffling papers. "We at Morris & Morris, as your principal investors, would like to know more about the, shall we say, discrepancies in the budget."

Draco really hated that word. He raised an eyebrow at the goblin across the table. After their rocky beginning to their changed partnership, Magnook had proved to be a valuable asset to the company. He'd rearranged numbers with a ferociousness that shocked the blond, hiding the missing money from their weekly reports beneath layers and layers of galleons.

Magnook cleared his throat and began speaking in slightly condescending tones. Draco tuned him out, turning a page in his pad of Muggle paper. He used it in his office simply because it was much cheaper to obtain than parchment was. On it, he began writing a list of tasks to do, for all the world looking like the bored, rich, CEO he was meant to be.

1. Granger. We need to discuss the terms of our situation. (Tuesday)

2. Daphne. What the hell was she doing in my penthouse? We definitely need to discuss her breaking and entering, not to mention that sordid affair she's delighting in. (Wednesday)

3. Mother. I know she's planning something after yesterday - contact the investigators. Confront her directly, she won't be expecting it. Perhaps today after my last meeting of the day? (Monday)

4. Find my bloody 3,000 galleons! (AS SOON AS POSSIBLE)

5. Write those damn employee evaluations. (Monday. This Monday, dammit, not next Monday).

He stopped at five tasks, as was his custom. He didn't want to risk overwhelming himself. Beneath his list, he jotted down a hasty schedule, and pulled out another sheet of paper. In order to fully maximize his time, he decided, it would make the most sense to get those evals finished during this endless meeting.

Nicholas Brown, he wrote at the top, beginning the first of many.

Monday

4:30 PM

(Narcissa Malfoy's P.O.V)

Vedette was proving quite useless as a spy. She was becoming entirely too attached to Draco, and Narcissa despaired of ever getting useful information out of the painting.

She knew her son must be getting suspicious. It was the best plot, really; she wasn't doing a single thing, but she was sure Draco was driving himself mad with ideas. He never could contain his paranoia, after all. After the incident concerning Miss Granger had blown up quite spectacularly yesterday, she was sure he would storm into the Manor and demand an explanation. Yet, it was nearly five, and there was no sign of her errant son.

The bell above the Floo chimed gracefully, and Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow. Who would be calling at this time? Perhaps it was Draco. She didn't bother checking her undoubtedly flawless appearance, instead snapping her fingers.

A house elf popped into existence - she wasn't sure which one. "Check the identity of the person trying to Floo in, discretely," she ordered it coolly, and the elf returned in a heartbeat.

"It is Sulia Zabini, ma'am," the elf squeaked.

Sulia was calling? Narcissa could hardly imagine why the Zabini was dropping in unexpectedly. She briefly toyed with ignoring her simply for the satisfaction and then decided that her old grudge with the Zabini family wasn't worth pursuing, especially when the news leaked out that the two woman had tea together, the Malfoy name would rise a fraction in the pureblood circles.

"Let her in."

When Sulia Zabini glided into Malfoy Manor, she found Narcissa sitting pristine on a pale pink couch. "Sulia," the latter said, standing as gracefully as she could manage. "It's a pleasure."

"I claim the pleasure, Narcissa," said Sulia in a traditional greeting that Narcissa immediately felt comfortable with.

"Sit, please, and my elf shall bring us tea." The two seated themselves, and Narcissa smiled at the other woman with no hint of the animosity they normally shared. It wouldn't do if it was painfully obvious how much Narcissa hated the Zabini matron. "May I inquire as to the reason for this visit, Sulia?"

Tea popped into existence on the lovely glass coffee table, and Sulia swirled her spoon inside the dainty cup. It was a pretentious gesture, furthered as the other woman took nearly two minutes to take a sip of tea and answer. Narcissa was sure Sulia was attempting to be condescending, but Malfoys were excellent at winning these little games, and Narcissa had the Black upbringing to steel her resolve. "You see, Narcissa," said the brunette, dressed in a pink robe that nearly matched Narcissa's couch. This was intentional, she was sure, intending to remind Narcissa that Sulia had been in Malfoy Manor plenty of times before and wasn't intimidated. "It has to do with young Draco."

Young Draco. Sulia was proposing marriage again, was she? Well, Narcissa wouldn't marry her son off to Sulia's daughter, Deteria, even if he wasn't bonded to the Granger girl for life. It wouldn't do to turn away Zabini yet, however, as Sulia might let something slip in her proposal. "Deteria is with Gregory Goyle, I thought?"

Sulia looked disgusted. "Goyle isn't suitable for my daughter," she said tartly, and Narcissa agreed. "Especially after the shame my Blaise has inflicted on our family." Narcissa worked her mouth to avoid a smile. Ah, how funny she found it that Sulia's beloved son had turned out so shamefully. He was, if she wanted to be crude, a man-whore of the highest order. "No, Narcissa, don't joke. I shan't laugh."

We'll see who's laughing, Narcissa thought viciously, even as she gave the perfect smile - meaningless, tinged with slight embarrassment. "Oh, Sulia, but I do enjoy lightening the mood. However, if you aren't in the mood for pleasantries, we shall cut to the chase." She nearly smiled in satisfaction as the other woman's smug face dropped a little. Implying that Sulia was too impatient and forgoing the traditional pleasantries was quite the insult. "You wish for Deteria to marry Draco."

"It's the perfect union," Sulia said serenely, folding her hands on her lap. "The Malfoys have much to gain from the Zabinis, and vice-versa."

"Do tell." Narcissa was pushing the limits of her rudeness, but Sulia simply smiled.

She took a sip of her tea, setting it down with the slightest clatter. "Oh, Narcissa, don't be obtuse. We both know Draco is doing excellently on his own. He doesn't need us to become more favorable in any society."

He doesn't need you. It was left unsaid.

"You, on the other hand, need our resources."

What 'resources' were being offered wasn't mentioned as well. There was no need.

Narcissa stirred the last remaining grains of sugar until they dissolved. "And what do you need from us?"

"I'm sure you can guess," Sulia said, smirking. "After the war, a great amount of our fortunes were dedicated to rising unscathed."

Narcissa exhaled. Typical Sulia Zabini. She was offering a ticket for Narcissa to rise again in wizarding society in exchange for money. A decade ago, Narcissa would have taken it. Now?

She was extremely tempted to take it. But what of Granger? "I shall have to think it over," she said, as was the standard response. "We shall make an appointment to discuss it further."

"Of course," said Sulia, who rose. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"The pleasure was all mine."

Monday

7:30 PM

(Daphne Greengrass' P.O.V)

She had been nearly asleep when Theo dismantled her wards and stepped through easy as anything.

That was one of the curses of having criminally talented friends.

"Fuck you," Daphne said, her voice hoarse and guttural from sleep. She coughed and cleared it, and sat up abruptly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You look beautiful, Daph," Theo said mockingly and took a seat on Blaise's new leather armchair. He surveyed her mussed hair, plainly made up face, and grumpy expression and smirked.

Daphne flicked her wand and instantly a nearly tangible wave of beauty passed over her face. Theo rolled his eyes. She rolled her eyes right back. He may taunt her all he wished, but she enjoyed the prettier version of herself, and she knew he did too. "Leave, Theodore."

He cocked an eyebrow at her and ran his fingers gently down the leather arms of the new armchair. "Well this is quite a nice armchair," he said lightly. "Has a real man's touch to it, yeah?"

Daphne sniffed. Theo may think he was subtle with his hidden meanings buried beneath meaningless comments, but she had his number, and it was less than hers. "Blaise bought it for us," she said, and her lips curved up at the memory. It had been sweet, how excited he'd been, how he looked at her adoringly and asked for her approval.

"Say no more," Theo said, and gingerly got up. He brushed the seat of his pants off and looked at it with a poorly hidden nauseated expression. "I can fill in the sordid details on my own, thanks."

She wanted to take offense, but she knew that was what he expected, so instead she smiled secretively and said, "Jealous?"

He took a seat on the couch next to her. "Of having a fuck-buddy? Can't say I am, Daph."

"Blaise isn't just a fuck-buddy," she said angrily, and then subsided as she realized he'd provoked a reaction out of her. "He's my boyfriend."

"Really." Theo nodded infuriatingly in that 'whatever-you-want-to-believe' manner of his that always rankled her. "Seems you have an excess of extra time, however. Missing Draco?"

Daphne furrowed her brow. What was he talking about? Did the prat really believe she was still in love with Draco? Okay, so she may harbor feelings for him, but they were no more than she had for Theo, and she was hardly in love with Nott. It was just a by-factor of having two attractive, intelligent men as her closest friends. She was sure Granger could emphasize, seeing as she'd been set to marry Weasley and even Daphne conceded that Potter wasn't ugly. "Draco hasn't been by to see me, so I suppose I am," she said carefully, placing the blame on their blond haired friend.

"What were you doing today at approximately ten-thirty?"

Daphne gave him a startled look. She had been with Blaise, actually, but what did that matter to him? "Hello, Umbridge," she said. "How are you doing today?"

She got a nasty look in return for her little joke. What was he doing? Had all the men in her life honestly gone 'round the bend? "Honestly, Daphne, answer the damn question."

"You were never as good a questioner as you thought you were," she sighed but went along with his little game if only to decipher the root. "I was with Blaise, Theo."

His lips pursed and his face turned stony in an instant. "What would you say if I told you that Sleeping Dragon lost six hundred million galleons today because you were fucking Blaise Zabini?"

"I'd say you were lying," she said immediately, though her heart was racing. Was that true? She knew the Dragon was on the brink of losing money, but not by much. Surely she hadn't been the cause of such distress? Daphne knew quite well that, without her, her boys could barely choose a shirt to match a pair of trousers, but Draco was a shrewd businessman and Theo extraordinarily observant. They could keep a business running for a few days while she left her habitual residence at her office to spend a little time alone, yes?

He sneered at her, and the disgust wasn't concealed. "Accio Daphne's scheduling book," he said, not even bothering to lift his wand, and the little black book she always carried sailed towards him. He caught it one-handedly, although Theo had never been sporty, and thumbed it open to the correct page.

Daphne did nothing. Her mind was racing, and a steady pounding had begun to settle in her heart. She knew. She was connecting the dots quite rapidly and she knew. She'd scheduled this meeting herself. Monday, ten-thirty, to discuss money with goblins and investors alike. As she realized this, more details began creeping in, unbidden - how Draco had whined about the time conflicting with Theo's meeting, how she'd snidely told him not to be late in any circumstance or she'd Avada him to hell and back. How had she forgotten?

Theo began reading out loud. "Monday, May 31. Ten-thirty AM. Meeting - Room 3B with goblins and principal investors." He lowered the book and fixed her with a look so fucking resigned that she immediately became defensive. How dare he look at her as if she were beyond hope? "You used to be able to see when I was lying," he said sadly, but turned his face to hide the momentary weakness. She caught it anyway. "What's happened to you, Daph? We haven't lost money, but Draco was thrown for a right one since you didn't show up. And where were you? Shagging somebody you haven't seen for five years." He shook his head and stood. She didn't. It was uncommon for Theo to show this much emotion, and she realized with a shock that her behaviour had actually hurt her men.

"I haven't..." She knew the denial was useless. When Slytherins began acting like Gryffindors, she couldn't contend with the world.

"I'll be leaving now," said Theo, and he walked over to her Floo. "Zabini may be home, and he can't find you and me alone in your living room." He threw a handful of powder in the fire and murmured his address. He stepped in, but before it whisked him away, he turned, and his parting words sliced at her. "Don't contact Draco, okay? He can't handle hearing from you right now. I'll let him know you're taking a little vacation from work."

And he spun away.

Daphne collapsed on her couch. How had this happened? Only a few weeks ago she was part of the Silver Trio, as the press so aptly named them, and feeling on top of the world. Then, Granger had somehow appeared, Blaise had been the one to steady her on her feet, she'd broken into Draco's house to give him a wake-up call, and neither of her best friends wished to speak to her.

What had gone wrong?

Monday

8:07 PM

(Theodore Nott's P.O.V)

As he exited the Floo into his own house, he couldn't help but smile. That had gone quite excellently. It wasn't often that he had the chance to act with such finesse - that was Draco's claim - but he found he enjoyed it quite tremendously. He hated seeing Daphne like that, and even though his parting words were chosen carefully and planned over, he'd meant them. He didn't even have to mention last night to know Daphne was thinking it over, probably regretting it. Theo didn't know what she'd meant by it, but he was sure she would approach him by Thursday at the latest, and he was patient.

He would bring her around. He knew he could.

Tuesday

1:01 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

Granger looked tired.

That was Draco's first thought. Her hair was taking up twice as much space as usual, and her eyes were surrounded by bags. What was she doing to herself?

Draco sighed and shook his head. The sooner they cleared up this little situation, the better. He had been thinking over the weekend and decided that finding a cure should be their primary concern; hadn't Theo and Daphne told him, all those days ago when Narcissa barged into Sleeping Dragon, that they'd had a plan? All the fuss over press conferences had pushed this alleged plan into the back of Draco's mind, but now he was curious. Never mind that Daphne wasn't speaking to him and he wasn't exactly inclined to speak to her. If there was some way to rescue him, he'd put aside his hatred of Blaise Zabini.

Even though they were technically bonded, Draco still refused to believe it was everlasting. The problem with Veelas is that there were hardly any records of them. Veelas were private people, and the bond was something neither mate or Veela wished to speak about. Despite these setbacks, Draco wasn't overly worried; between Granger, Theo, possibly Daphne, a Ministry researcher or two and him, they could craft a solution.

"Malfoy?" Her voice was tired and soft. He stiffened. What was she doing? "Do you think we can break the curse? Or should we just try to live with it?"

Wasn't he just thinking about breaking the curse? "Break it," he said determinedly. "There's no other answer."

She sighed, a long, drawn out sigh, and Draco was worried slightly by the resigned feeling emanating from her. "Sometimes I think it'd be so much easier," she said dreamily, sadly, quietly, "To just accept it. To know that, no matter what, there's somebody out there who has to love you no matter what."

"I don't love you."

Her laugh was chilling. "And then I remember why I hate you."

He didn't reply. There was nothing to say. They hated each other. Both knew it. What was the point of fighting the natural order of things? She may be a bloody brilliant shag when the bond had something to say about it, but they didn't like each other. "Meet me at Delia's today at three o'clock," he said, uncomfortable with the situation.

"Your mother owled me, did you know that?" It was random, sudden, and Draco flinched. What? When? Why the hell would his mother owl Granger?

Don't be stupid, Draco, he reminded himself. It was obvious why Narcissa would contact Granger. She was clearly trying to turn Granger onto her side, gain her sympathies, and through his mate, get to Draco. "I expected a development like this," he said, trying to remain in control. "When?"

"A couple of weeks ago," said Granger, and there was amusement in her voice. "And don't pretend you knew that would happen. I can feel you freaking out."

Bloody bond. He clenched his teeth, and then let it go. "Fine," he said curtly. "But now that I think of it, it's a strategic move that makes sense. What did the letter say?"

Granger lifted her head and stared at him with unerring accuracy, even though the swath of leaves that separated them. "You might as well come out. I know where you are."

He didn't move.

"Fine." She bit her lip and cocked her head. It was a move he recognized from their school days, when she was debating how much of the truth to tell her idiot friends. "I don't suppose I shall tell you, then. It's private."

He stepped out from the shadow of the trees. "Listen to me, Granger," he said slowly, enunciating each word. "My mother having an interest in you doesn't bode well for any parties involved...except, maybe, her."

"She told me she wished to speak to me in a matter concerning her son," Granger continued in that strange, measured tone. "I didn't reply."

Thank Merlin for that. "Don't contact her," he ordered in complete sincerity. "Don't acknowledge her presence."

"Why do you hate her so much?"

Where to begin? Draco looked up with a wry smile. "I don't necessarily hate her, Granger," he began, ignoring her snort of disbelief. "But she relinquished her claim on me as her son five years ago, and I'm not inclined to let her get it back."

Granger's sigh was slow and sad. "If the situation was the other way around, and you abandoned her, would you want her to forgive you?"

That was a ludicrous question on many levels, namely because he wouldn't have abandoned her, not then. "Granger, I joined the fucking Dark Lord for my mother. Do you really think I'd abandon her after that?"

"What if it was for her safety?"

He eyed her carefully. What in Merlin's name was she getting at? Draco sighed softly, barely audibly, as he thought that one over. He couldn't imagine any situation where him leaving her to fend for herself would be beneficial to her. "Granger..." he began before he expelled a second sigh. "Don't worry about me and my mother, okay? Just, don't contact her." She began to say something but he stopped her. "I have to go. Meet me tomorrow at Delia's at three o'clock, ask for Malfoy, and do look presentable."

He disappeared.

Tuesday

1:34 AM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

Her parents were still in Australia.

In a way, she sort of emphasized with Narcissa; oh, it was an awful move to be sure, abandoning her only son, but Hermione knew it wouldn't have been easy to come back.

How was she supposed to release her parents from the memory charm? They would hate her forever for stealing seven years off their lives. Their dental practice had been shut down, and all of their friends believed they'd moved away for life. What was left for them in England besides a daughter who started lying to them when she was eleven and continued until she was twenty-three?

Hermione knew who her parents used to be, and she knew they might never forgive her for this. Her parents had never really understood the dangers of magic; they thought it was a genetic anomaly that had to be trained like any other special talent. To them, sending Hermione to Hogwarts was equivalent to sending her to a boarding school where she could cultivate her piano skills, for she had used to be quite adept at the instrument. Sure, they'd heard of Hermione getting Petrified and the trio getting attacked by a troll, but they'd believed it to be accidents - for the former, a spell gone wrong, and for the latter, an unfortunate coincidental run in with a dangerous animal that resulted from the three disobeying rules. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever explained to them that a person could seriously hurt another with a spell.

The way Hermione saw it, she would tell them what happened and they'd either be so upset at her betrayal that they never spoke to her again, or they'd realize Hermione had been a major part of a war, conclude that the Wizarding World was dangerous, and forbid her to enter again.

And, what was she supposed to tell them about Malfoy? "Oh, and Mum, the boy I hated for seven years and I are bonded through an ancient curse that we can't resist?"

That would go over well.

She sighed and picked up her wand. There was no use dwelling over these things; she had much bigger problems to worry about. Namely, her failing research firm. As Soon As Possible, as she'd named it early on, had no funding. She was barely managing to stay on her feet financially.

Bloody hell, I should have just taken Mrs. Malfoy's bribe, she thought to herself despondently. How was she supposed to achieve greatness if she couldn't even start up a firm on her own?

Maybe you aren't meant for greatness. It was a sneaky voice, a sly one, one that sounded rather like Severus Snape and her insecurities mixing. She knew rationally it wasn't Malfoy, but that didn't stop her from clenching her fists and apparating out in a haze of self-righteousness.

He was making her doubt herself. How was she supposed to achieve anything if she kept thinking of the ferret? Ugh, this was frustrating. The Veela bond was proving to be more trouble than it was worth.

Tuesday

3:00 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

She looked perfectly composed, a stark contrast to the sleep-deprived, hopeless face he'd seen hours before.

He had expected her to show up to the fancy little restaurant in jeans and a t-shirt, but she was instead wearing a short white dress that was surprisingly good-looking on her. It flattered her lean frame and made her small breasts look bigger than they were.

Draco couldn't conceal a smirk at the thought that he knew, quite intimately, what the Virgin Princess' breast size was. Oh, how he would have loved to screw her over in school! If he'd ever managed to get in her granny panties during Hogwarts, the whole school would have known by the end of the day. It would have devastated her.

She would have gotten over it, he reminded himself when the nasty tinge he attributed to the bond made him want to flinch. He'd been feeling it quite a lot whenever he thought particularly nasty thoughts about his dear mate. It was an outrage, but one he didn't know how to deal with.

Granger's face was perfectly composed when she sat down opposite him, and he found he didn't like it. She looked too stony, too lifeless. Whereas a mask on him made him look coolly attractive and dangerous, it made her seem fake. He resolved to break it by the time their food arrived.

"Granger," he greeted her, letting his eyes rove over her hair, managed in a sleek bun. "You look...acceptable."

He saw the flare of anger radiating from her before he felt it, noticing how her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She was good, but he was better. "Stuff it, Malfoy," she answered, and he was struck by how flat her voice was. Where was the fight he remembered from their school days? Where was the Granger that shut the door on him when he showed up at her house begging to be let in? "I know I look more than acceptable. Why are we meeting again?"

"Acceptable is relative," he said, prodding her, trying to provoke her in some way. "And I think that finding a way to break the curse will be mutually beneficial."

Granger lifted her eyebrows. "Naturally," she said, and he was both pleased and irritated to hear a bit of a laugh behind her words. There was determination flowing from her every time he tried to sense her feelings, but determination for what? "I reached that conclusion shortly after learning of the bond."

His eyes narrowed. "Snarky comments aside, Granger, there is a slight issue." He was pleased to see her redden slightly at his chastisement. "I have a business to run. You don't; you have your little project, oh, what was it called? ASP?"

"ASAP."

"Whatever." Draco shrugged dismissively. She was getting upset, he could feel it, and he continued speaking with the air of somebody close to getting his goal. "Well, since even the most famous Spells Master this side of Europe refuses to help you, I would suggest it was time to let that dream go."

"Malfoy, I hardly think - " she began hotly, but he cut her off.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Granger, I would suggest that but I recall your obsessions with your projects from our school days - " Granger ground her teeth. " - I have another solution."

Granger opened her mouth to respond with what was undoubtedly a rude comment when a waiter appeared as if by magic. "Anything I can get you, Mr. Malfoy? Your companion?"

He ordered an iced tea with a lemon swiftly and rolled his eyes when Granger pursued the untouched menus as if it were the Rosetta Stone. "Honestly, Granger, it isn't a life or death decision. She'll have the same," he told the waiter, who bowed his way out of the conversation.

"I can order my own drink," she said sullenly, but he waved that aside. Her mask hadn't lasted very long at all.

He continued as if that interruption hadn't happened. "If you can find any kind of cure or solution to make this more bearable, anything, I will lend my business advice to ASAP until it is up and running. Is that acceptable?"

"What makes you think I need your advice?" She shot at him. He didn't reply, only looked at her pointedly before she flushed and said, "Let me rephrase. What makes you think I want it?"

"Granger, let me remind you who I am - "

"I don't think you allow anybody around you to forget."

"I am Draco Malfoy," he said, slightly louder. "I was raised in the world of business since the day I was born."

She rolled her eyes. Insufferable brat. Had she heard any of that? "Your birth is generally when you start getting 'raised,'" was all she said.

Luckily, the iced teas appeared on their table at that moment, and he took his to calm himself down. She was infuriating. He breathed in a circular diaphragm pattern for a second - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and sipped the cool drink.

Ahh, that was better. He resumed speaking, noticing her drinking hers down thirstily with a mental triumphant smile. "Is that acceptable?"

She gave a shrug. "And if I need money to finance the research?"

Really, did she think she could even attempt to cheat him out of money? Budget discrepancies aside, he had never gotten scammed. He raised an eyebrow, said, "Submit to me a proposal explaining why you need the money, where it is going, and what you intend to do with it," and waited for a response.

She sucked drink through her straw noisily. "Let's draw up a contract," she said by way of approval. "So that, when we are no longer bonded, you won't try to run without financing ASAP."

He had expected that, and so when Draco flicked his wand, a contract appeared on the table.

"Well, well, you did come prepared," Granger said, and began reading. Her eyes moved across the page with a speed that was completely inhuman and rather freaky, before she stopped. Jabbing her finger at one sentence around one third of the way down, she read out loud, "'D.M is not required to assist the research unless it is to provide appropriate and approved resources.' You're not going to help at all?"

"You, Granger, are getting paid to do this. Don't complain." When she taking a breath to complain anyway, he held up a hand. "I have to run an internationally famous company, Granger. I hardly have the time to meet with you here, let alone to research independently." He wanted to insert a snarky comment about her loving to research more than she loved life itself, but he restrained himself. He could always use it later - it was rather good. Draco mentally congratulated himself on both his willpower and his sarcastic intellect and stored the comment away for future use. Merlin, I'm brilliant.

Granger finished the tea with a noisy sip and stood up, taking the contract with her. It was okay; he had many copies. "I'll be going now," she announced, as if he cared. "I'll return either a signed copy to you by owl Thursday, or you'll get an envelope full of soot if this is bullshit."

"Fair enough."

Her eyebrows went up. "Was that Draco Malfoy actually being reasonable?"

"I am always reasonable," was his quick reply. "But one cannot be reasonable if the other doesn't recognize reason, and I believe that is our main problem, yes?"

He was actually gratified to hear her laugh slightly before she walked away. He finished the tea and set it down as well, and a bill popped up in its place. He placed a stack of silver coins with fifteen percent tip exactly, down to the knut, and left as well.

That had gone well; better than he'd expected, anyway. Perhaps they did have a chance.

A/N: Good? Bad? Meh? Drop a line! I rather enjoyed writing Theo, so tell me if you want more of that.

Oh, and it's no coincidence that the Zabinis are stirring up trouble at the same time...hehehe.

Narcissa's not out of the picture yet! Don't worry. She'll be back next chapter, with Vedette in tow. Do you think there should be a confrontation or another subtle Slytherin meeting?

Thanks for reading! Reviewers, you guys rock even Draco's socks off.