Disclaimer: These are not my characters; I make not profit off of them.

A/N: Thank you I Fell Into Yesterday and Alice Wednesday. I love that someone has gotten into my story this much :] This chapter or the next is the last update that I'll have for awhile as my break is almost over and I can't keep staying up all night writing. Anyways…

April (still)

Hermione:

She takes up running. It fits, she figures, because she is always running from something anyways. Her feet hit the ground one after the other and her muscles strain to stay inside her legs. Her lungs hurt, but she doesn't stop. And it is she, this time that sees him.

He is leaning against the brick wall and smoking. His eyes are closed and smoke billows out of his mouth like clouds or waves, and she can almost hear the ocean. And since she has already ran once today, she knows she has used it all up and she can't run anymore but considers it anyway. He opens his eyes and takes another drag, deeper this time. He sees her and lets the smoke drift out between his teeth as he smiles and beckons.

She's a little tipsy on air and stumbles, as she gets closer. But then, there he is, right in front of her and she can't think of what to say. He offers her a cigarette but she shakes her head and he puts it back in the case.

"Gave it up…" she mumbles and he knows it's a lie. She never even started.

He pulls it back out and places the thin tube in her fingers. She looks at him, and only him, as he lights it for her-with a lighter of all things! - And then he's wrapping his hand around her hand and lifting it up to her mouth for her. His finger is opening her mouth just a bit and then he's helping her slip the cigarette between her teeth, and without words she knows he wants her to drag so she does. It hurts every part of her and she chokes; she tries to give it back but he does it all again and by the third time he has taken another out, for himself, and is smoking facing her. Their smoke surrounds the two of them but she can still see that hair of his, and his nose and the curve of a smirk (or a sneer?) and she doesn't know how she got here…she doesn't know in general. All she knows is this is the most present she has felt in…the most here and now she has felt in…since…

But now he's grounding the butt into the wall and flicking the remainder of the white and orange tube into the trash. He's walking away and leaving her with the remainder of what just might be a smoking gun.

"Where have you been all day, sweets?"

Hermione shrugged. She was wearing a pair of running shorts and a tight t-shirt, but she smells like smoke and knows that it's filling the kitchen.

"I think…I'm not sure I…" she can't finish the sentence.

She feels like she's climbing a hill, her knees hurt and she knows she's going to roll down the other side very soon and can't do it in front of Madge.

She runs up the stairs and the door to her room opens and then she's on the floor, always the floor, and her hands are gripping the rug, knowing she never gets to decide if she wants to remember or not. She lets it come.

"Why don't you wear this shirt?"

"Because stripes make me look like a circus elephant."

"Ron, it makes you look so handsome. Come on, this shirt…and this tie?"

"Hermione!" He grips her hands in his bigger ones. "No!"

She throws them both down and walks over to the couch. She looks at him, in his plain blue button up, which is actually the shirt that makes him look like a circus elephant, and laughs as he struggles with his tie.

"Well alright, you give it a go then!"

She snorts and shakes her head. He fumbles some more with it and then loses his patience.

"Go back to bed, Hermione."

"What's the matter? Someone tense already?"

"Why don't you just go back to sleep?"

"Why don't you stop being an asshole?"

She sighed and picked up her cup, which was full of coffee. She wasn't going to be tired enough for sleep at this point. Ron finally figured out his tie and folded the shirt collar around it.

"So do you feel…do you feel like yourself?"

He turned and looked at her.

"What?"

"Well, you always say that you hate interviews because you always just end up not acting like yourself."

"Yeah. Feel like myself." He mumbled.

"So…do you know what kind of things you'll be talking about? Or do you think you'll just wing it?"

"Why?"

"Don't get so defensive, I'm just curious."

"Well stop. Go back to bed."

"Ronald, I can go back to my flat if you want but I'm not going back to bed. I'm not tired. So stop."

He had sunk into the armchair near the bedroom and was breathing deeply. His hands moved through his hair repeatedly and every couple seconds he cleared his throat.

"You ok?"

"I hate interviews. I bloody suck at them. I go in there and before they even say anything I apologize for myself and I just…" he leaned back and groaned.

She walked over and sat next to him.

"Come here." She said and pulled him to her. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes. "You're going to be great."

"I'm so tense."

She smiled loosely.

"You're the best interviewer ever."

He arrived home later than she expected him to. He smelled strange-like fresh office supplies and…dollar bills.

"Hey. How did it go?" she was watching TV still from the corner of her eyes.

"Fine." He said in an almost breathy way. He took off his coat and hung it up. He rolled up his sleeves and took off his tie.

She forced a smile on her face and stood up. Tonight she wanted things to be ok. She didn't always want to fight with him.

"That's it?" she asked. "How did it go?" She followed him as he walked into his room.

"It went fine, Mione."

"Well did they…give you any…I don't know, indication?"

"They said they'd call me and thanked me." He changed directions and she followed again.

"Well good! You got the feeling it went well?"

"I just said it went well, didn't I?"

She took a step back, smile frozen on her face.

Ron was looking through the fridge with determination. As if the leftovers inside might suddenly change into something else.

"Look, I really just don't want to talk about it anymore. It was an interview. It went fine. Now I'm home. OK?"

"You hungry? Let me make you a snack."

"I don't see much." He shut the fridge and walked to the other side of the island.

She was getting annoyed, the familiar feeling bubbling in her stomach like a potions experiment.

"Well I could make you a pb&j." She smiled. Ron loved Pb&js ever since she introduced it to him years ago.

"Yeah. Whatever."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the bread from on top of the fridge. In the cupboard she pulled out a half full jar of peanut butter and in the fridge there was grape jelly. She placed them together and they sat in front of her on the island like weapons. She pulled open a drawer and took out two knives. Ron put a plate down in front of her and then walked to the other side, watching her.

"Is this what you call a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" he sneered. "Pb&j?" he scoffed, only slightly.

She ignored the comment and took out two pieces of bread. She tried to imagine this was like every other night, where she was making him food and then they'd watch TV together or read and then go to sleep. It was routine. She needed that routine.

"Yup."

She opened the peanut butter and put one knife in it, pulling it out with a big wad of peanut butter at the end. She spread it all around on the bread and then moved to the jelly. She stuck the other knife in it and then did the same with the jelly on a new slice of bread. Ron had a look on his face, which was half sneer and half condescending.

"What are you doing?"

She paused, jelly knife in hand.

"Don't start with me." She warned.

"Well it's only a question."

"I'm trying to be nice." She seethed.

"Are you using two knives to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"I don't want to get the peanut butter mixed in the jelly jar. So DON'T start with me." Her eyes were closed, her mouth open in silent prayer. Not tonight, please not tonight.

"Fine."

She slammed the knife on the table, a jelly stain spreading on the white surface. Splatter marks hit in myriads, like blood. Like war.

"What's the difference Ron? You'll get the sandwich and it will taste the SAME."

"There is no difference, Hermione." He smiled nastily.

She picked up the knife, which was sticking to the table slightly. She closed the sandwich and cut it in half.

"Actually, you know what the problem is? That only a fucking moron would use two knives to make a "pb&j" sandwich. Who do you even think you…" He started to move towards her. "Give me the knife." He grabbed for the knife in her hands. She backed up quickly and moved around him. "I'm not going to kill you Hermione, just give me the knife!"

She wouldn't give it to him and so he went for the one still in the peanut butter.

"Now watch me. Are you watching me?"

She was frozen.

"Fuck you." She said but her eyes never left his.

"First what you do is you spread the 'pb'" He pulled a new slice of bread out and moved peanut butter around on it. "Now you see this excess pb on the knife?" He waved it in her face. Her mouth turned down to her chin. "You wipe it on the OTHER slice of bread. And you see that? You see it?" He waved the bread in her face. "The peanut butter shit stain means that the knife is CLEAN and can be used in the jelly now. Ok, fuck face?"

He threw the knife down. Hermione was boiling mad. She could barely stand it and she was going to-

"I DON'T WANT TO DO IT THAT WAY, OK?" Her eyes were going to pop out of her head. "You are a FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

"Yeah, Hermione. It's always me being an asshole. Only me. Why don't you take responsibility for your own stupid shit?"

"THE KNIFE IS NEVER CLEAN ENOUGH RON! OK? FUCK FACE?" And she threw the knife at him but it missed and hit the sink. "Why don't you go fuck yourself!"

She stormed into his room and sat on the bed. Then she heard him.

"This bread is SOFT, Hermione. So it will ALWAYS make the knife clean. Unless of course, you're a fucking Mudblood and don't know how to do anything."

She stood slowly, her knees shaking. She walked in what felt like two steps and made it across from him. They were inhaling each other's air, feeling each other's steam. While she was watching, Ron took the knife, which he had put back in the peanut butter and then slammed it in the jelly jar, mixing it all together deliberately.

"Don't you take it out on me because you choked in your interview."

And then she apparated out.

Afterwards, she was pulled out of her mind and now that she had come to, she was sobbing and she was alone. She had hated him so much. She hadn't spoken to him in months but she remembered it all like it was yesterday. They were so perfect together, and then they fell apart and she didn't know why. She couldn't figure out why they had crumbled and slipped through her fingers and she knew…she knew…there would be more memories and she wouldn't be able to stop them but she hoped that next time, she would be strong enough.

Draco:

Somehow he knew she would be there tomorrow and so he left early to get there first. She had beaten him though, and as he looked at her he felt resignation to whatever she would throw at him. That was why he had came, right? To be beaten up by her? She was the one person who would fight him back if he started anything, and after last night, which he had spent at the bar again, he was desperate for the cutting words. He needed to be degraded. He needed someone to hate him more than he hated himself.

Instead, she walked up to him. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Camel's. Slowly, she pulled out a single cigarette and then put the pack back in her pocket. She took out her wand and lit it, placing it between her teeth. She was close now, and he could feel her body heat seeping into his clothes…his skin. She took a deep drag and then held it. Then, with a small smirk she stood on her toes and placed her pinky on his lips. She pulled down, exposing the dark "o" of his mouth. And then…she blew. He understood immediately and sucked in the smoke, holding it in and then blowing it all out carefully. She smiled and stepped back. As she moved her fingers up to her lips again he moved quickly and grabbed it from her. She made no move to take it back. Instead she simply left. The crack of her apparation stayed in the air for a minute and then he continued to smoke until it was burned down.

Hermione:

The next day, night had fallen and she saw no signs of Malfoy. She remained by that same inconsequential wall, leaning and then sitting, closing her eyes. It had been hours but she wouldn't move. She was so pent up, still angry from that remembered fight. She needed to yell.

There was a rustle in the branches of the trees and she knew without opening her eyes that it was he. She heard a flicker and then smelled smoke.

"What are you doing here, Granger?"

She opened her eyes and looked up.

"Not excited to see me, are you?"

"Not particularly."

She stood. Held out her hand. Waited for the happy feeling of the cigarette in her palm. She didn't even like smoking. She just liked this. The breathing in and out. The smell in her clothes. The vibration of anger she got from being near him.

"Thought you gave it up?"

"Thought prats like you didn't care about Mudblood's business?"

"Shut up."

"Light me."

He came closer and flicked on the lighter. He held it in front of her face and saw the amber glow of the flame in her eye.

"How bad do you want it?"

She shoved the cigarette in his fingers and started to walk away. He grabbed onto her arm.

"Not even going to say goodbye?"

"Fuck off." She shook him from her and apparated home.

Draco:

"Why do you like Camels? They're too short and they taste like ass." He grabbed one from her outstretched hand.

"Why are you taking mine then? Surely you have your own?"

"I was just asking."

"And I'm just reminding you."

It was quiet except for the sound of sucking and exhaling. He didn't mind her presence as much as he previously did. He would have preferred someone else, but she wasn't the same as she used to be in school. She didn't blurt out things no one cared about and she didn't pretend to know everything either. Instead she asked silent questions and answered the verbal ones he threw at her.

"What do you do? Or what did you do?"

She flicked the tip of her Camel and let the ashes fall on her shoe.

"I worked at Gringotts."

"Doing?"

"Nothing. Deskwork. Answered questions."

"That's pathetic."

"So is that sweater."

He smiled into his cigarette. He didn't like her shirt either, but he was above petty appearance comments, unless it concerned her hair or her teeth. Neither was even bad anymore but she still winced when he pointed it out.

"So the brightest witch of our age is…working a desk job?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy. What's it to you?"

"Doesn't seem fitting."

She contemplated that for a minute. He watched her face as she tried to find words.

"I guess…I liked giving people their keys. Or, rather, I liked making sure people had the key that was there's."

"Sounds thrilling." He said dryly and took a deep drag, letting silence settle before he blew it out and acknowledged her again. "Ok, fine, Granger. Go ahead and tell me why you like giving keys."

"Because it was simple. A key belonged to each person. And only that one person could have that particular key. And every person came in with only one clear issue-to get to their bank and get their money."

"And what about married people? Don't they share keys?"

"Yeah, shut up. Punching holes in my answer won't make what I said any less truthful to me."

His cigarette had burned down. He put it out in the ground and stood.

"Why are we doing this? I don't like you, you know."

"Isn't that why we're doing it?"

He scratched his head slightly. His hair was in desperate need of a cut.

"You piss me off."

"I barely say anything. You're the one that asks me questions all the time."

"Oh, come off it. You love talking about yourself."

She was done with her cig then, and she stood. She burned it out absentmindedly, looking at him while she did it.

"I'm going to go now."

He nodded. Looked indifferent.

"Fine."

Hermione:

She didn't want to go anywhere when she woke up. Her mouth felt like cotton and she hadn't eaten in days. She heard tentative footsteps outside her room and then the door swung open.

"Tea?"

She sat up, holding her hands out eagerly. The cup was warm in her hands, which felt dry and smelled stale. Had she showered recently? She lifted a hand to her scalp and grimaced. Maybe she hadn't.

"Thank you, Madge." She said.

"I haven't seen you around in awhile. Ireland treating you well?"

She considered the contents of her cup. On the one hand, Ireland was everything she wanted it to be. But on the other, she missed Harry with an ache that seemed to settle deep in her bones. She hadn't responded to his letter for fear of him discovering her whereabouts using a trace spell. But he hadn't contacted her either, which made her sad. Except for Malfoy, no one had really talked to her in almost two months. At that thought, an owl swooped in the room.

"Ah, I was wondering when that little guy was going to make his way up here." She patted Hermione's knee. "I'm going to go start on supper. If you need me, just call."

The owl dropped a heavy piece of parchment in her lap and then flew to the ledge of her window. She placed her cup of tea on the bedside table before unrolling it. Her eyes scanned the paper several times before she got out of bed and grabbed her quill.

Draco:

"I quit my job, today."

She looked horrible. She reeked as well. When he offered her a smoke she had refused and looked in the other direction. It was quiet for a long time. Draco went through three cigarettes before he finally breathed in her direction.

"Ok, enough."

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Don't like me moping in your presence?"

"I couldn't care less about your disposition, actually. But if you're going to be sulky in my vicinity than you might as well have a drink."

.x.

"I'm not even sad over quitting. I did it on impulse. They offered me more time off since I hadn't contacted them and I just…quit. I don't want to go back there."

She was drinking a martini, like a fucking woman. He wasn't drinking at all, for once.

"Quit whining then."

"If you don't like it than leave."

"This is my bar!"

"It's called 'Malfoy's'?"

He growled, his throat burning. She was in a right mood today and he didn't want any of it. Why he had led her to the bar he didn't even know. He regretted it more as the hour went on.

"Stop. Put that down."

She raised an eyebrow to him and shook her head. He took the glass from her and drained it. God, an apple martini of all drinks? He motioned to the bar-tender and ordered two Liquid Cocaine's.

"If you'd like something sweet, take this. But I'm warning you…one is enough to knock you out."

She drank it fast; faster than even he did. She smiled and ordered another. That one was gone quickly as well. Neither said much to the other, and Draco took his time drinking his one drink. It was when she started slumping foreword that he knew it wasn't going to be quiet for long.

"Time to go, Granger." She had had enough and he wasn't going to hold her hair while she puked.

She leaned on him a little as they staggered out and into a corner where it was safe to leave. No one was watching as she grabbed onto his arm and they suctioned out.

They were in front of a house. It was quaint and small, like the place he was staying in only not so cold looking. She took one step towards the house and fell over. She didn't move so with a deep sigh he bent down and picked her up. She was light, and her head lolled back. Her curls were knotted and damp and they smelled like the bar. A small woman opened the door for him, and he found his way up the stairs. Her room was the only one open. The only one with things in it. He walked in and tripped a little over the rug. She stirred, but only slightly.

He had half a mind to dispose of her right on the floor but somehow he didn't. He placed her on the bed, and he walked out. He didn't want to see her anymore and yet somehow he knew he would.