2

Ginny Potter looked up in surprise as the Floo roared to life and her best friend of many years, Hermione Granger-Malfoy, stepped out of the fireplace. "Hermione, what are you doing here?" she asked, standing and greeting her with a hug.

Hermione's face was devoid of colour and her eyes were red-rimmed. "I've left him, Gin."

The words echoed around the room, and Ginny stared at her friend in shock. "What? You've left him?" She led Hermione to a nearby chair and watched as she sank into it, brushing her wild curls away from her face. "I thought everything was good between you."

Hermione shook her head frantically, tears beginning to slide down her reddened cheeks. "He's barely spoken to me for weeks," she choked. "He goes to work, comes home, eats dinner and then disappears into his study, or the parlour. I got so tired of staring at the walls, Gin. I can't be in a marriage where I'm the only one making any effort."

"Let me get you some tea," was the response. She walked into the kitchen and met the curious eyes of her husband. "Hermione is in the living room, Harry," she explained. "She – she's left Draco."

His green eyes widened. "She what?" His mouth dropped open; his tea mug freezing halfway to his mouth. Putting it down on the kitchen table, he got to his feet. "I'll go talk to her. The good biscuits are in the top cupboard – oh, and don't make tea. Make coffee with a dash of firewhiskey – I get the impression she's going to need it."

Ginny busied herself in the kitchen as Harry crept into the living room. Hermione looked a fright. Her curls, usually tamed and glossy, stuck in different directions as if she had been electrocuted or hit with a Static Charm. Her eyes were pinched and sore-looking, and her bottom lip was trembling. He immediately sat on the arm of her chair and without a word, gathered her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest; her sobs echoing through the room. Harry let her cry, feeling her shake in his arms and wondering what on earth had happened. "Mione… what happened?" he finally voiced gently.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark with tears. "He doesn't love me, Harry," was her simple answer. "At least, I hope he doesn't, because if he does then his ways of showing love are awful."

"Has he hurt you? Did he hit you?" demanded Harry, instantly angry.

She shook her head hurriedly. "No, no – he hasn't touched me. That's the problem, Harry. It's like I don't exist. No conversation, no physical contact. It was as if I wasn't there half the time. I just – I can't live like that, Harry. He never made time to talk to me. The only conversation I ever got was from Tisky."

"How did this come about, Hermione?" asked Ginny, coming in from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. "Here – have some coffee. I found the biscuits you like, the Cadbury ones."

Hermione hiccupped and accepted a mug, taking a sip. "I was at work today, and I was thinking about things and then I suddenly realised I didn't want to go home. For the past few weeks, I've stayed late at work, cataloguing or making an excuse to do something else, and then it hit me that I was avoiding my own home. I hated going back to the Manor because I knew all that was waiting for me were empty rooms and silence." She took another large sip of her coffee. "I knew then I had to do something, and I blew. I immediately Apparated back and threw all my things into trunks. Poor Tisky, she tried so hard to find out what was wrong." She tilted her head, suddenly troubled by the memory. "I need to apologise to her, I was quite rude."

Ginny bit into a biscuit, her expression kind. "And he wouldn't talk to you about it? Draco, I mean?"

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Don't be ridiculous. Draco doesn't talk about anything. Not even his work day. I'm really beginning to wonder if he was actually 'working late' at all. He did hire an especially pretty secretary."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. "Did you leave him a note?" enquired Harry.

Hermione's face broke into an uncharacteristically cold smile. "No. Why should I? I doubt he's even noticed that I've gone. He never noticed when I moved the furniture around so why would he notice that I'm not there anymore? After all, I was just another of his possessions."

Ginny leaned around and took her friend's hand. "Mione, he's going to notice. He's going to come looking for you. You do know that?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and dunked a biscuit into her coffee. "He won't." The surety in her voice chilled the Potters, but neither of them felt comfortable enough to voice their dissent. A sudden whooshing broke the strained silence, and they all jumped as the Floo roared to life in a green flash.

Harry jumped up. "Hermione, go to our bedroom with Ginny," he said. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to see who I think that is right now." She nodded and the two women quickly disappeared up the staircase as he turned back to the fireplace just in time to see Draco stepping out.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The sneer on his visitor's face was something he had not seen since their Hogwarts days. "Don't piss about with me, Potter," came the biting reply. "I know my wife is here and I want to see her."

Harry shrugged. "I've just gotten home myself, mate. I haven't even seen my own wife yet. If Hermione is here, I've not seen her."

Draco stepped closer to him and Harry met his eyes defiantly. He could see the anger burning in the pale man's grey eyes. "Well she's not at the Manor, Potter, and all her things are gone. I figured she must have come here." Despite the obvious anger in the words, Harry could make out an emotion he hadn't been expecting – sadness. Harry felt his heart sink and he gestured to the sofa.

"Take a seat, Draco," he offered. "What's going on?"

Draco muttered something under his breath, but accepted the seat, looking around suspiciously. "Like I said, I got home and Hermione wasn't there – or any of her things. Nothing. No note, nothing but an inconsolable house elf," he stated, his voice husky with anger and pain. "She left, just like that."

"Why do you think she left?" questioned Harry, trying to keep any semblance of familiarity with the situation out of his voice. "I mean, did she say anything? Did you have a fight?"

Draco dropped his head into his hands. "No, we haven't had a fight for weeks. She didn't say anything – she never said anything. Ever."

"What do you mean? When was the last time you talked?" Harry's voice was laced with surprise, and Draco hated it.

"In all honesty, Potter, I can't remember," he admitted resignedly. "That's bad, isn't it?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I don't understand, Malfoy," he replied. "I mean, you were so in love. We all hated it at first but you both proved that you weren't going to let our misgivings stop you from being together. I just… I don't get it."

"I still love her," Draco responded. "I never stopped. But obviously she did – she's been working late a great deal lately. I half suspect that she's seeing someone else."

Harry would have chuckled if the situation had been different. Here were two people, suspecting the same things about each other and yet they hadn't talked in weeks. "What about you?" he asked instead. "Have you been seeing anyone else?"

"No!" was the vehement reply. "I'd never do that, not to Hermione!"

"What were you going to say to her, if she was here?" Harry surprised himself with the question. He knew now that he couldn't let Draco see Hermione, not like this. It would only lead to a shouting match.

"I don't know," admitted Draco. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. Demand an explanation, I guess. Drag her back to the Manor with me. Ask her how on earth I'm supposed to console my best house elf, who won't stop weeping."

"Tisky likes Hermione a lot, doesn't she?"

Draco nodded. "Loves her. Tisky once said that Hermione made the Manor feel like a home again. After the war, the place felt like a tomb. Hermione – well, she changed all that. It actually felt more like the place I remembered growing up."

"What should I say if she comes here?" Harry asked, feeling sorry for the man sitting across from him. Draco's initial anger had dissipated and now he just looked sad.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, Potter. I've no idea. Maybe just find out why she left, and ask her if she'll speak to me. I don't want this to be the end. Maybe – maybe tell her I love her."

Harry smiled softly, gently. "Malfoy, I honestly think that would be more appropriate coming from you than me."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But at this point I don't know if she's even in the country. I've no idea where she is. If she's not here, I don't know where else to look. Her parents are in Australia – I suppose she may have gone there, but I hardly doubt she'd be too pleased with me just Apparating in. But I know one thing – if I don't hear that she's safe in the next couple of days, I'm going to go and look for her." His declaration was accompanied by an icy glint in his eyes that quickly gave way to liquid emotion. Harry could see that Malfoy was fighting back tears, and that single realisation shocked him to his core.

"If I hear from her, I'll let you know," he promised, feeling horribly disloyal to his best friend. But somehow he felt responsible, knowing that Hermione was upstairs with Ginny and he had lied about it. He felt torn, knowing that he was firmly stuck in the middle here.

Draco got to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Potter." He shuffled his feet anxiously before heading over to the fireplace and grasping a handful of the sparkling powder. "Tell her – tell her the Floo is always open. I've taken a leave of absence from the Ministry for a little while – just in case she wants to talk. I can't – I don't know what else to do."

Harry nodded silently, lost for an appropriate reply. He feared that right now, Hermione wasn't open to anything he could pass on from her estranged husband. Draco responded with a curt nod before throwing the powder into the fireplace and disappearing in a rush of green flame. Harry sighed deeply, pushing his glasses up his nose, before walking to the foot of the stairs. "He's gone," he called up.

Moments later, Ginny and Hermione descended the staircase. Ginny's face was taut with tension, and Hermione's bottom lip was swollen as if she had been worrying it with her teeth. "What did he have to say for himself?" demanded Hermione, putting a hand on one hip. "I suppose he ranted and raved?"

Harry shook his head. "Actually, no. He asked me if I had seen you recently and I said no. Then he mentioned that you weren't at the Manor and that none of your stuff was there, either. Where is it?"

"I put it into storage," was the instant, cold reply. "I don't need half of that stuff anyway. Eventually I'll sell it. Or burn it. Whichever."

"But Hermione, your books –"

"Fuck the books," she bit. "Those books have been my only companions for months. It's safe to say I won't need to re-read them any time soon. The words are probably burned into my brain. I could recite them in my sleep."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Mione, this isn't you," she said, her tone full of concern. "You've closed yourself off, I've never known you so cold."

Hermione just shrugged. "I've been living in the Manor. Perhaps the Malfoy warmth has rubbed off on me." She burst into vitriolic laughter. "That's a joke in itself. The Malfoys only warm up when they're dead."

"You were crying when you arrived, Mione," pointed out Harry. "Don't do this. Don't shut us out, and everything else. We can't fix it if you do that."

"Exactly," she declared. "Now if it's okay, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me use your shower."

"Of course," replied Ginny. "There are clean towels in the linen cupboard." Hermione nodded her gratitude and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. She looked at her husband. "What did Malfoy say?" she mouthed.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. "He seemed angry at first, then he was just sad. He doesn't understand – but he did confirm that they haven't spoken for weeks. He told me to tell Hermione he loves her."

Ginny looked down the hall towards the bathroom. "Oh Merlin, what are we going to do?"

Harry looked subdued. "I don't know, Gin. But we have to do something. Mione has closed herself off, and Malfoy is sadder than I've ever seen him. Somehow, we have to get them back together."

His redheaded wife nodded emphatically. "I know, Harry. I know."

A/N: Thank you for all the interest in this story! I have several chapters pre-written and will be updating regularly.