Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

Apologies for the long note here, but I need to thank you guys. Last night was really bad, like colossally bad. My dog's throat closed up and I spent many hours in an emergency animal hospital in my pyjamas bawling my eyes out in front of a bunch of strangers. My dog is my best friend - watching him struggle to breathe and then seeing him hooked up to tubes and blinking machines was just too much. My boyfriend was working a night shift, so it was just me and my box of kleenex, trying to imagine what my life would look like without my buddy. The only thing I had with me other than my wallet was my phone, and partway through the evening, I checked my mail. Your comments poured in and gave me a little bit of happiness in an otherwise terrible situation. THANK YOU. I just found out that the surgery is over and we're waiting to hear how / if he's going to recover. Scary shit. I just wanted to let you know that I appreciated every word from you.

Onto the chapter: Hermione is totally sneaky. Please review - tomorrow's chapter is key to what's going on under all that sneakiness. xo

Harry blasted open the door of the storage room in The Wizard's Hat, an ancient tavern that never seemed to close. It was five in the morning and he had been looking for Ron since he left Hermione at the hospital. Apparently Ron had been busy. Every pub in Diagon Alley had seen him. Every pub reported that he seemed especially nervous. He would have one drink, and then take off, sometimes without paying.

Bleary eyed and furious, Harry was finally at the end of the line. He stormed past the rickety old tables decorated with napping drunks, following a tip from the bartender that someone matching Ron's description had wandered to the loo and had yet to return. The loo was empty, and Harry pieced the rest together on his own. Ron was hiding. There was only one other place he could be.

The door flew off its hinges without protest, and someone inside the dark space swore. Harry squinted into the din.

"Come out, you coward!" Harry yelled.

Silence.

"Ron, I will drag you out myself if I have to. Is that what you want?"

Harry heard a slight mumbling.

"What was that, Ron?"

"I said 'no' for Merlin's sake," slurred the voice. More grumbling and the clunk of boxes tumbling over. Slowly, Ron stepped into the buzzing yellow light.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," Ron said, his eyes swollen and his lip cut.

"Codswallop," Harry said, and then he reared back his fist and punched Ron in the face. There was a satisfying crunch and he relished the surprised yelp of pain that echoed around the room. Good. Ron deserved to hurt after what he had done.

"Looks like someone got to you before me, you arse," Harry seethed, advancing on Ron who was on all fours, scrambling to get away. "What the fuck were you thinking? This is Hermione we're talking about! She was your best friend, and you somehow got lucky enough to date her. She agreed to marry you. Hermione who saved your life time and time again. Hermione who you are supposed to love and cherish, not embarrass and hurt, you tosser! What the fuck were you thinking?" Ron was attempting to dive into a pile of packing crates, and Harry landed a sharp kick to his ribs. Another crunch and a choked cry.

"I wasn't!" Ron wailed, clutching his stomach and rolling around on the filthy ground. "I wasn't thinking! It happened once when I was drunk and she had no idea... So I did it again. And then it just kept happening."

"You make it sound like a passive fuck, Ron," Harry said. "Sex doesn't 'happen' to you. You weren't raped. You fucked your way through half of England, and you can't make me believe they were all just drunken rolls in the hay."

"Look, I didn't mean for her to find out," Ron gasped. "I wanted to stop, but these girls... They seduced me! How can I turn them down?"

"Usually saying 'no' works really well," Harry muttered. "And please... Hermione not finding something out? How long have you known her? I think she's been onto you for years. Did you even know she was addicted to Muggle painkillers?"

"What?" said Ron, looking up in shock. "Those headache pills? She said they were for migraines."

"They would fix a migraine on a giant," Harry responded. "She's been found, by the way. Almost died of an overdose."

Ron's face crumpled with grief. "Fuck," he said. "Poor Hermione. I didn't want this."

"You created this," Harry said. "You're a spineless coward."

"I know," Ron said, congested, sitting up now with his head in his hands. "I know. I've ruined everything."

"That you have," said Harry, looking at Ron with disgust. He was noticing more bruises now, as well as the split lip and the puffy eyes. There was a long silence, with Ron's raspy breath echoing in the dank room. Harry felt his pulse slow down a bit, and sucked in a lungful of musty air, trying to get his control back.

"Things really fell apart after the Final Battle," Ron mumbled. "I thought I was handling it, but I guess I just kept getting worse. Took it out on the wrong people in the wrong way."

Harry knew what Ron was referring to. Losing Ginny had nearly destroyed them both, but Harry knew Ginny would have had a fit if she had seen how Ron was behaving. "Everything fell apart after the Final Battle, but it affected all of us, Ron. Hermione too. You should have asked for help."

"I manage it on my own," Ron muttered.

"Seems to be working well for you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"So really... Who beat me to it?" Harry said, feeling slightly calmer now. "You look like you'd already been tossed around before I got to you."

"Blaise, at first," he said. "Apologized in advance and then laid into me. Said I deserved it. Then a bunch of random blokes at the bar. Not sure if that was for Hermione or for the drinks I didn't pay for."

"Remind me to thank Blaise," Harry said.

Ron stared at the ground, massaging his ribs.

"I'm really sorry about all this, Harry," Ron mumbled. "Honestly."

"You should be," Harry said. "But I'm not the one you have to say it to."

The sound of footsteps made them both look back down the hall. The bartender was walking towards them with a newspaper in his hand. He looked at Harry, and then at Ron, bloody and bruised on the ground, before he shrugged.

"Isn't this the bird you were looking for?" he said, shoving The Prophet into Ron's hands. Ron squinted at the text, his expression changing from one of confusion, to one of shock, to one of anger.

"What the fuck?" Ron exclaimed. "What the hell is this?"

Harry grabbed the paper out of his hands to see. He looked at the cover and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Draco was going to be furious.

DRACO MALFOY A HERO: SAVES HERMIONE GRANGER FROM CERTAIN DEATH, said the title. Below, there was a huge picture of Hermione, smiling gratefully and holding up a photo of Draco, mouthing the words "thank you."

Draco looked at Hermione's expectant face and sighed. "Okay Granger. You've made your case. I sure hope I don't live to regret this, but I guess you're hired."

"Excellent," she beamed. "I can start right away... There's so much to do, and we can't waste any time."

Draco shook his head in amused horror. "You just got out of the hospital after nearly dying and your arse of a fiance basically tried to ruin your life. Serious question here: don't you want a day to recover?"

"I can recover while I'm working," she said, frowning stubbornly. "As I told you, I cope better when I'm busy. What I need now is a desk and access to an owl, so I can start with - "

A knock at the door interrupted them. Blaise walked in with a newspaper in his hand.

"Blaise, you remember Granger, of course," Draco said, gesturing to Hermione. "She's going to be working with us for a while."

Blaise cocked a surprised eyebrow at Hermione. "No kidding!"

"I'm working for free," she clarified. "I'm going to try and help save the business."

"Well then, welcome!" Blaise said with a suave smile. "It will be nice to see a pretty face around the office. I'm usually just stuck with Draco all day. Can you imagine?"

Hermione laughed and then covered her mouth, blushing.

"Hey!" Draco said, affronted, annoyed that Blaise was already making his move on someone he thought was dead only half an hour before.

"Hey nothing," said Blaise. "The lady has a sense of humour. Now as happy as I am to hear you'll be joining the team, Granger, I actually came in for a different reason. I have a funny feeing Draco will want to see the newspaper that was just dropped off to us. Rather odd story on the cover."

Hermione's smile faltered. "Oh yes?" she said.

Noticing her sudden awkwardness, Draco took the paper from Blaise's hands, suspicion creeping into his mind. His brow furrowed.

"What the hell Granger!" he cried, looking at the front page article. "Hero? Certain death? What the twirling fuck is this?"

"The first part of my plan," she said, matter-of-factly.

"But that's not possible!" he said. "I only just hired you ten seconds ago!"

"Well, I didn't really expect you to say no," she said, innocently. "I had to get a head start." Draco opened his mouth to protest but Hermione waved him off with her hand. "Malfoy, it's going to be fine. My plan for the business hinges on establishing your heroism. You were right when you said the press would spin it badly, but I found a way around that. This article is completely positive. Just grin and bear it - once you're out of the red, you can complain all you want. Trust me, okay?"

"Trust you?" he sputtered.

"I realize it seems counter-intuitive, but I know you can do it," she said.

"I can't tell if she's being serious!" Draco said to Blaise, pointing accusingly at Hermione.

"Of course I'm serious," she sighed. "Blaise, would you mind helping me set up a desk somewhere? I have piles of paperwork to get started on."

"Certainly," Blaise replied, shooting an amused grin to Draco, who was still gaping like a fish out of water. "There's a perfect space right across from my work area. I'll meet you out there."

"Great! I'll go look around a bit," she said, wandering out of the room.

Blaise turned back to Draco, the grin now replaced with a stern expression.

"We need to have a serious discussion, Draco."

"I know, I know... Hiring her is going to be a disaster," Draco said, burying his head in his hands.

"No. Hiring her is a stroke of genius. She'll have the press at her beck and call. Minus how your parents will react, I haven't got any issue with that. We need to talk about this." Blaise held up the newspaper again, pointing to the headline. "When were you going to tell me that you saved Granger's life? How did that tiny nugget of information escape your considerable mental capacities? Do you not remember me bringing her disappearance to your attention? Do you not remember me dragging Weasley out of here because I was worried about what had happened to her? Did you not think I might find this information useful? I may not know her all that well, but I did help fill out a missing persons report with her arse of an ex-boyfriend. It would have been nice to hear it from your mouth before The Prophet told me."

Draco reddened a bit and looked up at Blaise. "I'm sorry mate. I would have told you, honestly, but it was supposed to be a secret."

"Too secret to tell me?" Blaise said, clearly hurt.

"No, of course not... I just thought that if nobody knew, I could pretend it didn't happen. I didn't ask for any of this."

"What about Potter? Sure sounds like he knew."

"Swore him to secrecy, not that it matters now," Draco muttered. "He came to get her at the hospital. Said he wouldn't say anything."

Blaise shook his head. "Draco, I'm sorry, but you're a bloody fool. Potter obviously has nothing to do with this. You left Granger, Hermione Granger, in a hospital with a wand and no information as to how she got there. You're lucky she didn't obliviate everyone in the ward."

"I don't think she's evil Blaise," Draco scoffed.

"I'm not saying she's evil! Quite the opposite! This is Gryffindor's princess we're talking about. I'm saying she is Hermione Granger. We may not have been close with her in school, but we know this much: she always wants an answer. If she doesn't have one on hand, she damn well finds it. Stubborn as fuck, that one."

"Look, I wasn't thinking straight, okay? I was a little shaken up and I hadn't really slept. The article wasn't exaggerating when it said she was nearly dead when I found her. It wasn't exactly a great night." The article had left out all mentions of drugs, which Draco was thankful for. He really didn't want to have to discuss Hermione's dirty laundry with anyone. The very idea made him uncomfortable. This whole situation made him uncomfortable.

Blaise observed Draco for several seconds before nodding with a sigh. "Okay. I understand. I've got to say... Attempted secrecy aside, I'm pretty impressed with you."

"How so?" Draco said.

Blaise shrugged. "There was a time in your past when a younger Draco Malfoy might not have cared so much if she died."

Draco looked up at his friend and then down at his hands, stretching his fingers out in front of him. There was a time in his past when his hands had to be scrubbed every night to get the dirt and blood off. There was nothing nostalgic about those years... Just sadness and death.

"Yeah, well you can see where that attitude brought me," he said, grimacing. "I'm ruined. Can't even get anyone to return my owls unless I owe them money."

"Maybe not for long," Blaise said with a thoughtful smile. "Granger seems pretty driven to make this work. I'm actually feeling positive about our chances now."

"We'll see I guess," Draco shrugged. "I won't get my hopes up. I've been trying to do the same thing for years. The public just doesn't want me to succeed."

"Oh, don't mope. Things can't really get worse than they are now. And besides, if I get to look at Granger all day, I really can't complain," Blaise winked.

Draco frowned. "Seriously Blaise? Granger? Are we talking about the same girl?"

"Seriously. Have a closer look, Draco. You won't be sorry. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go work the old Zabini charm. If the lady needs a desk, she shall have a desk." At that, Blaise strode out of the office.

With a grumble, Draco looked back at the newspaper article, Hermione's face dominating the page. She mouthed "thank you" over and over again, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You're welcome, I guess," he said, before tossing the paper in his desk drawer.

Draco stared at the pile of mail that had accumulated in the mere four hours since he had hired Hermione. Three invites to dinner from women who have previously turned him down. Four inquiries from stores who wanted to carry his brooms. Ten interview requests. Six letters of various correspondence from former colleagues who had avoided him like the plague since the War. Three letters from creditors who had decided to give him an extension on his loans.

In. Four. Fucking. Hours.

Instead of feeling elated, he was furious. So this is what it took? He quite literally had to save the life of a decorated War hero to get a second chance? How did that make sense? He had been trying for years to show society that he was worth something, that he shouldn't be tossed into the gutter for his stupid mistakes, that he could make amends on his own terms.

But all that was done now. Hermione had fixed his problems in four hours. Forget her insane timeline of taking three months to succeed - she'll have met her goals by the end of the week. When the post first started coming in, he read it with interest, excited that things might turn around, but by the tenth piece of mail from yet another opportunist, he had turned into a snarling, swearing hurricane of a man. Blaise had stopped coming by with letters, opting no doubt to busy himself helping Hermione in her noble crusade. It was only 1 p.m. and he was tenser than a rubber band set to snap, locked in his office and brooding.

There was a timid knock at the door.

"I'm not in the mood, Blaise!" he growled. "Just piss off!"

The door creaked open. A familiar mess of curls peaked around the edge.

"Hi," she said quietly. "Can I come in?"

Instead of responding, he narrowed his eyes.

"I guess I'll enter at my own risk," she murmured, slipping in and shutting the door behind her. She put her hands up in a placating gesture. "I come in peace, Malfoy. I just came to say -"

"What? Come to tell me that the world is bowing down at your feet?" he snapped.

"Just hold on..."

"Or perhaps that every shop in London will carry our brooms because you batted your eyes?"

"Malfoy..."

"It's been years Granger! Years I've been trying to rebuild my life, and you just waltz in here with your hero complex and your perfect record and BOOM! Everything comes up fucking roses."

"Malfoy..."

"Do you think I was really given a choice whether or not to serve Voldemort? When my parents' lives were on the line? Does that sound like a choice to you? I did what I felt I had to do and I've regretted it ever since. Judge that."

"Draco!"

His furious tirade came to an immediate halt, and he stared at her, wide eyed and chest heaving.

"What?" he said, flustered. The sound of his name on her lips made him twitch.

"We need to get something straight," she said, sitting down in front of him. "We may never have gotten along in school, but I have never blamed you for anything that happened. I've never agreed with the way people treated you. I certainly don't judge you for wanting to protect your parents. That is something I can empathize with far more than you understand. So please... Just stop."

His cheeks flushed pink and he glanced up at her before looking back down at his hands, gritting his teeth.

"And please don't fire me yet, because - "

"Fire you?" Draco said, looking up with an annoyed expression. "Are you daft, woman?"

She looked puzzled in return. "Well... You don't seem very happy with what I'm doing so far..."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "No Granger, I'm not happy, I'm thrilled. Look, I appreciate what you've accomplished in such a short time. It's a bit mind-boggling, but it's appreciated. So no, I'm not going to fucking fire you. Apparently you're my most efficient employee."

"Ooh, best not tell Blaise," she said, cheekily.

Draco resisted the urge to smirk with everything he had, screwing his face into a frown. He didn't want to encourage her.

"Best not to tell Blaise what?" said Blaise, walking in the door with another pile of letters. "More fan mail, Draco. I figured I could use Hermione as a human shield if you decide to fly into a rage again."

"You certainly may not!" Hermione said hotly. "Besides which, I'm going back to my desk. I've only taken care of half my to do list and I need to finish before Harry picks me up for dinner."

"Potter's coming here?" Draco whined. "Jesus Christ, do Gryffindors have some sort of a beacon that makes them gather in groups? How many more of you do I have to see today?"

"Just us two," she said, dryly. "And there are worse things than spending time with two Gryffindors. You don't hear me complaining about working with two Slytherins, do you?"

"'Course not," Draco said, matter-of-factly. "Slytherins are charming."

She snorted. "I think your fan mail is going to your head. Blaise, Draco." With a curt nod, she stomped out of the room.

"Draco, huh?" Blaise said with a suggestive smile.

"Don't," Draco warned.

"Whatever," winked his friend. "I think you like it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to help dear Granger with her "to do" list, if you catch my drift." Blaise walked out with a swagger.

"Merlin help me," Draco whispered to himself. "I think Gryffindors might actually drive me to drink."