So it was over. The real tears only came once he'd closed the door. Silent and painful tears of sorrow that made her feel like she'd lost someone. Hermione hadn't know until that very moment the extent of her feelings. Draco Malfoy had apparently taken a huge spot in her heart, and she realised it only when he left it. He'd saved her life, paid the debt he seemed to believe he owed her, and had probably decided he'd done what he'd had to do. Now he was gone.

Five minutes after the door had closed on his lowered face, she still hoped he'd come back, but he never did. He'd stayed a bit, listened to her, held her hand back, but didn't want to see her again.

That friendship they'd built had only been a way to feel better during hard times. Something that would have never existed if they'd never had to work together. It had always felt a bit awkward anyway, given their history, but Hermione had thought it would outlive the events. She'd been wrong and she should never have insisted on seeing him for it broke her heart to watch him go. If she hadn't, she would never have known. Now she did, and the tears didn't want to come to a halt.

She was so stupid. If people knew, crying again because of Draco Malfoy, but this time because he didn't want her friendship. If someone had told her that right after the war she would have laughed her face out.

Wiping her tears away with a corner of the scratchy bed sheet didn't help getting rid of the feeling. Hermione spent the following hours staring at her parchment, a twinge of hope it would get warm keeping her from looking elsewhere, her head filled with bitter memories at reading its content.

She finally put it back on the night stand when another healer came in with her lunch. He wouldn't write and after his rejection of her friendship, she couldn't write either.

Lavender and Ginny arrived around two in the afternoon, arms full of potions and clothes among other girly things Hermione had no idea existed.

They chatted about everything but auror work, as it was confidential, and they weren't allowed to talk about it in front of Ginny. The whole conversation was light headed, and Hermione was grateful. She was less fond of the toenails painting Ginny had insisted upon though. When the red-haired witch had worked her charm and stubbornness in making her agree to also paint her finger nails, Hermione had ended up agreeing, under Lavender's mocking stare, and just to shut Ginny up. But right now, the redhead was grabbing the potions she'd brought, and trying to decide which shade of dark blonde would suit Hermione the best. Lavender's smirk was the most infuriating thing ever, and when Ginny finally made up her mind on honeyed blonde, Hermione's refusal left her lips.

"No, I'm keeping it brown Ginny." It's not ugly.

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to …"

"I'm not an auror any more. We caught the stone I don't need to look like someone else." Her tone was a bit brutal, but her choice was adamant. She refused to think at why that was, but she knew she really didn't want to change her appearance any longer.

"Oh."

"Sorry Ginny, it's just …"

"No, I get it, you want to feel like yourself again."

"Yes, I do. But you still can … I don't know, curl it or whatever …" Both other women giggled. Hermione had never known what to do with her hair, and if it hadn't been for Ginny, she would have looked like a total bush at every ministry event. Even in fourth year, for the Yule ball, it had been with Ginny's help that she'd managed to look decent.

Ginny didn't insist on the matter though, and the conversation kept going for an hour more. Soon it was four in the afternoon, and having slept close to nothing the night before, Hermione started yawning loudly. The girls took the hint and bid their goodbyes.

Once the door was closed, Hermione let herself flop down on the mattress, and the remains of the tears from earlier came back. When she thought she had time to dwell on her grief, the door clicked open.

"Mione?" Lavender was back, maybe she'd forgotten something. Hermione jolted back up in the bed, and wiped her face quickly.

"Shit I knew it. What's wrong?" She came to the bed and waved at Hermione to give her some space to join her. Hermione shuffled to the far right of the mattress, and Lavender did a very sisterly thing, she settled herself under the covers with her. Hermione remained silent, Lavender's presence was a comfort in itself, when Ginny hadn't noticed a thing, Lavender had and had come back for her.

"What's wrong Mione?" Apparently being asked one more time was all she needed. Hermione started with Malfoy's visit that morning, and it was all she'd planned on telling Lavender, but she ended up telling her everything. From his first attempts at civility, to the night they'd shared their guilt and held hands, to the parchment talks, the laughs, the hug, everything.

Silent tears had struck her face, but she felt better. Lavender seemed deep in thought for a moment, and when she lifted her face to her friend, she smiled a compassionate attempt at comfort. She wiped Hermione's tears with the back of a hand, and sighed.

"I had no idea it went this far. Look Mione, it's not really my place to say but … I don't think he doesn't want to see you again."

"What makes you say that? He's been pretty clear about it."

"You don't get it, Hermione he saved your life."

"I know that."

"Yes, but you weren't there. He was ready to beat the shit out of Lee when he reminded him what the protocol was …"

"Right, but I would have too, for any of you … I don't see what …"

"Hermione I think he likes you."

"What? How? What?" Lavender rolled her eyes at her confusion.

"Blaise thinks so too. He was …" Her serious face came back before she kept going: "When he brought you here, he refused treatment until they'd taken care of you. Then he harassed Luna to know how you were. He kept … I … never mind. Just … I think he cares a lot more than what he's willing to admit."

"You make no sense, why would he go away then?"

"Maybe he's just afraid."

"How … No you're wrong. It can't be. Look, we'd just, with great difficulty, stated we were friends. That's it. And he's forced himself to come here this morning. I don't think …"

"Your smarter than that Hermione. I could be wrong, but … I've seen him, I mean … Harry was less worried."

"I … He doesn't have that many friends Lavender … it could just be …"

"He's got us. We made sure he knows that after he saved you. All of us, Ron included. We took turns at his bedside too. It's not that …"

Hermione couldn't process what Lavender was saying. It didn't make any sense.

- You wish.

- Maybe.

That memory chose the right time to come back. The blush that had tainted his cheeks that morning and the way he'd wrung his fingers afterwards started to make sense. There had been hints, along the way, hints Hermione had missed. The way he'd insisted on knowing how she felt about him, the way he'd kept asking even though she'd answered. The uncomfortable silences and the hidden smiles. The way he'd told her to be careful before they'd parted ways for the intervention. It made sense, but Hermione couldn't believe it. It was just … not possible.

"Hermione?"

"Hum, I don't know."

"Mm, I can't force you to believe me, but I've got an instinct for this kind of things. It's the remains of my old personality you know …" Hermione chuckled as Lavender playfully fluttered her eyelashes, in an old Lav-Lav kind of way.

"Yeah right. I'd rather trust the wolf in you."

"Then the wolf states there was sexual tension in the air, quite a few times. But I didn't want to be that blunt."

"Oh my … Godric's Lavender! What should I say about Zabini and you then?"

"Err …"

"See? Not so pleasant. What's going on anyway? Are you on yet?"

"Shit, I knew this would come eventually." Lavender looked torn. Hermione decided she'd confided enough for a lifetime, it was her turn now.

"Speak." Surprisingly Lavender answered right away.

"Nothing's happened. We … err … we're playing cat and mouse for now. Like flirting but nothing serious. I thought he'd make a move but …"

"Maybe he's afraid you'd eat him."

"Oh shut up."

"Actually Malfoy and I bet it would be fun to watch."

"What?"

"We've noticed when we stayed at the Manor. And kept betting on it since then. Even this morning actually …"

"Shit. Maybe I should just take the first step …"

"Maybe he's only waiting for that. I could ask … Err, no I can't. Never mind."

"Why not?"

"Because he's rejected the idea of even seeing me Lavender, I won't be the desperate and pathetic little thing …"

"Right. All right. Maybe next time you see each other …"

"I think he's going to avoid me like the plague now."

"Not if I have a word to say."

"You don't Lavender. Please, keep you nose out of this. And Zabini's too. Or I'll poke mine in your business and I'm no Cupid, it won't be pretty."

"That you are not." The conversation ended with Lavender standing out of the bed, and tucking Hermione under the covers, both smiling at the other.

"Are you feeling any better?" Lavender asked when she'd decided the bed was well enough made.

"As confused as before. Even more actually."

"Great, then I think it's the right time to tell you that Ron's coming by after work."

"Oh my …" Hermione took her face in both hand while Lavender giggled.

"Harry's coming tomorrow and then … I don't remember but Dean's made a schedule."

"Dean? Seriously?"

"Yep. Everyone was arguing when Luna said that it was two at a time and he just snapped. Between you and Malfoy it was a mess so he yelled at everyone and made a schedule."

"Dean's yelled?" Hermione couldn't hold her surprise, what had happened to the quiet Dean?

"Yes, I was as surprised. I guess it's been harder on him than what we thought. Anyway, he's taking a few days off, Harry's orders."

"Oh. I'll write to him."

"Yes you should. I did too. I'll let you rest now, write if there's anything."

"I will."

"Good nap Mione."

"Thanks."

Lavender winked before going for real this time.

Hermione was left, as she'd said, more confused than ever. She had no idea what to do with Lavender's, and apparently Zabini's, speculations.

Upon Malfoy's leaving she'd felt the weight of loss settle on her shoulders, as if a piece of her heart had gone with him. She knew she cared for him, she knew she'd considered him a friend before she'd found the guts to admit so, but it was all before she'd almost died in a bloody fire. Before he'd saved her life and cowardly ran away from her once the good deed was done.

If they truly were friends, he would never have walked away from her when she was bedridden and most in need of a friend. After Lavender's words it seemed that Malfoy liking her was the only logical answer to her questions. It made sense somehow, it explained a lot.

But he'd just walked away. When she'd had no idea his feelings went this far. It changed everything. Trying to push the question away wasn't working, but she kept on trying until Ron finally came by to put at halt her confused thoughts.

He came in with a bright smile, and a report on the secret hideout they'd managed to discover with Lee, betraying professional secrecy with her. Apparently the few escapees of the last intervention would soon be sent to Azkaban. Hermione was glad, it was really going to get better.

Ron babbled some more about the broom he'd finally bought that morning, and they talked about Dean for a while. Everyone was worried, which was why Harry had ordered him to take a break. He'd apparently done so without complaining, which was a good sign, at least he admitted being on edge.

Ron grabbed his cloak to go around seven in the evening, and the goodbyes lasted until seven thirty.

When she was finally left alone to think with her insipid diner, the question she'd managed to avoid until then finally popped in her head.

How did she feel about Draco Malfoy?

If he really liked her, how would she feel about it?

Did she like him too?

Her brain was blank again. Nothing came to mind, just emptiness. She had no idea what she felt like. She just didn't know.

Draco had another appointment with Loony Lovegood. The day after he'd sent the check, the day after he'd seen Granger for the last time and made her cry, he apparated to Saint Mungo's again. He was determined to avoid the fourth floor, whatever the cost.

Loony was waiting for him in her office, the door wide open, and jumped to her feet when she saw him.

"Hello! How are you Draco?"

"Fine. Yourself?"

"Excellent. I have great news. I'm going to be able to talk to Hermione about the project. The testing is relevant. I think we can give it a try on people."

"Oh, that's good news. Why did you want to see me then?"

"Well, because it's all thanks to you, I thought you might be interested in seeing if it's successful."

"Err, I trust you on that … I'm no healer."

"I know. But rich people tend to want to know where their money goes."

"Again, I trust you with that. I don't …"

"Come on, follow me." She jogged in the large corridor and Draco had no choice but to follow her in a quick pace. She lead him to the seventh floor, and opened a large door where permanent residents lived.

Draco had never been on that floor, and the gigantic room that opened before him, looked like a strange nursing home. There was way too many doors to keep count, on every surface of the walls, Draco suspected them to be the rooms, and also that they'd all been made with extension charms. The large sort of lounge was full with disparate sofas, and bookshelves, coffee tables, and residents. They all formed a moving crowd, among mediwitches and wizards. It was a strange mess.

Looney lead her to a room at the far right corner.

"Here, I want you to meet the reason why I'm doing all this." Shit. Draco felt a bout of panic, but he didn't get any time to act on it and run away, for the blond crazy lunatic had pushed him through the door already. The room was simple, and held no personal object except an upturned dusty picture frame on the dresser. A couple was sitting on the double bed, reading from the same book, from which they were each holding a side.

The woman had familiar brown hair, that laid strangely straight around her face, a thin nose, and a few freckles. The man had really short but jet black hair, Draco suspected to be bushy.

They both lifted their faces at the Loony manipulative bint's words:

"Mr and Mrs Granger? I would like you to meet my friend Mr Malfoy." He was so not her friend.

"Oh, hello, nice to meet you. Albert Granger." The man extended a hand for Draco to shake. Which he did, obligated to notice the man's front teeth. It rang way too many bells.

"Nice to meet you too." The man nodded in a fatherly fashion Draco had only seen on one man in his life. The Weasley father, none other that a few days prior, when the man had come to thank him for his bravery.

"She's a surrogate daughter to Molly and I. I don't know what we would have done if she'd perished. Know that you're welcome in our home anytime you see fit, or if you need anything …"

Draco guessed it was what real fathers did, give affectionate looks to everyone young enough to be their children. Too bad he had no idea what it felt like to be a son.

"This is my wife, Jean." Draco shook her hand too, but the woman remained silent, apparently considering him attentively.

"Right, so, the potion's ready, we'll be able to start the tests tomorrow. You'll have your first potion in the morning. I hope it'll be the one and only but we can't be that optimistic. If it doesn't work we'll have the tests twice a day."

"Oh, so we might get all our memories back soon then?"

"Indeed, you might."

"Brilliant."

Loony grabbed him by the sleeve on their way out, and once safely outside the permanent residents wing, Draco's patience had the opportunity to vanish without anyone but the insufferable lunatic noticing.

"What the fuck was that about Lovegood?" She seemed unmoved.

"Well, I thought meeting Hermione's parents would move you more than if you'd meet Neville's. Though their state is much worse but you already know that. Maybe seeing Gilderoy Lockhart …"

"What … Why would you do that?"

"Because I think helping us was your way to say goodbye." How in hell could she know that? Had she talked to Granger since the day before?

"How …" Maybe she was just completely mad and imagining whatever goodbye to … whatever.

"The question is not how Draco, it's why. Why are you saying goodbye?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about …"

"I think you do. I heard Hermione cry last night." What? Draco shook his head and she was gone. She'd left him at the door they'd just closed behind them.

What a crazy lunatic … She was right. But he knew perfectly why he'd said goodbye, and maybe Granger had cried because of something else. Right, maybe the weasel had insulted her again. No, said weasel had been oddly friendly and Draco shouldn't be angry at him again for no reason. She'd cried, so? Surely it had nothing to do with him.

Draco's feet had taken him back to the entrance hall, and he turned right at the reception, heading to the apparition point. Of course he had to cross Potter's path. As if seeing him at work and at night and having to pretend not to notice his knowing looks, wasn't enough already. It was a shitty day anyway.

"Oh Malfoy! You're here to see Hermione too?" The look on the ferret's face was priceless, Harry had to repress a laugh.

"Err … no actually I saw her yesterday."

"Oh so she wrote."

"Err … yes she did. Look I was on my way out …" Seeing the blond uncomfortable was quite the sight. Harry decided to play the game a bit longer.

"Why did you come then?"

"Err … check in … my throat and everything."

"Yeah right and I came to have my scar removed. Why did you come?" Good, now he'd made Malfoy angry.

"Check in Potter. Mind your own business for once." Harry chuckled as Malfoy strode past him. He was fairly certain he'd come to see Hermione.

His certainty vanished when he told Hermione he'd seen him.

"He didn't come today Harry. He came yesterday morning, I haven't seen him since." She wasn't smiling any longer, and as much as she tried to hide it, Harry could guess she was sad about something. She refused to tell him why, and persisted on keeping the conversation light. Maybe she'd confided in Lavender, they seemed to have gotten closer recently.

When he came back to Andromeda's cottage that night, having left Grimmaud place to the Slytherins for the time being, he asked Ginny about it.

"No, she seemed fine. She's insisted on keeping her hair natural … which is … anyway, she looked perfectly fine."

Harry wondered when his beloved wife had stopped being friends with Hermione. He realised the two witches hadn't seen a lot of each other for the past couple of years, and had significantly drifted apart. He decided to remedy the fact by asking Molly to host a Sunday lunch, as she used to do after the war. The girls would surely catch up. In the meantime he had to talk to Lavender.

Two days had passed, and Hermione was now able to stand on weak and trembling legs, the wound healing slower than anticipated. The only event that had come to top Malfoy's goodbye during those seven days at Mungo's had been Luna's visit.

The dreamy looking witch had come and sat on the visitor's chair, looked at the ceiling as usual, and spoke gibberish words before going away with a large smile.

Hermione hadn't even thanked her. It was time to hope. But she didn't dare.

That morning Neville was supposed to come by, and she would ask him to translate Luna's words into comprehensive sentences. As she slowly put her feet down to try and go to the bathroom fetch her robe for the first time, and of course against Luna's recommendations, her awaited friend knocked.

"Come in Neville." He entered, a wide smile on his face. Then he saw her, sitting at the edge of the bed, her hand tightly gripping the chair next to it.

"Hermione you're not supposed to try to walk yet."

"I know. It's frustrating. Would you mind grabbing my robe then?"

"Course." He took it but waited for her to sit in bed again before giving it.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So? How's it going?"

"Slowly. Neville do you know what's going on with Luna and my parents?"

"Err … she didn't come to see you?" He said, grimacing.

"She did. I didn't understand a thing she said."

"Ah. Well, she's been given founds. And she's started the tests in the last couple of days."

"Oh. I guess she'll soon test on patients then."

"No, Hermione she's started testing on patients already."

"What?"

"It's promising."

"Really? On patients you mean …"

"Your parents yes."

"Oh. But I thought she needed a lot of money to …"

"I told you, she's been given founds."

"Oh. Do you know …"

"I suspect. But I don't know who." He twisted his face in an ugly grimace, very much as Hagrid used to do when he told them something he wasn't supposed to.

"Suspect?"

"Right. I won't tell you can torture me." He crossed his arms in defiance. Hermione knew he wouldn't tell anyway but she couldn't refrain her smile.

"I won't ask then."

Neville stayed about an hour, and told her he'd managed to have authorization for her to leave Mungo's for two hours on Sunday, in order to attend Mrs Zabini's funeral. Lavender would pick her up.

Trying to keep her thoughts light once she was left alone, Hermione decided to read. Maybe the old Hermione Granger would come knock at her door again.

After an hour she was positive, she was nothing like that girl she'd been at Hogwarts. She loved reading, but it wasn't enough to shut her thoughts any more.

Draco untied the little knot that kept the letter from Mungo's on the rapacious' paw. What did that Loony girl want again? He was sitting in the lounge at Grimmaud place, having remained there until the dust settled down. The place had been deserted of Potter, who apparently spent most of his very little free time at Draco's aunt, Andromeda. Draco had been invited to go there, and to the Burrow, but he sensed it wasn't so much of a good idea. Saving Granger's life had opened up a lot of doors that had always been closed before, and he had no idea if he liked it. Being invited over for drinks by the weasel, among other things, wasn't really something he was looking forward to. He'd kept declining pretexting work, after all he still had his company to take care of atop auror business.

Blaise was taking a nap on the couch next to him, his head had fallen back, and he was snoring lightly, his mouth wide open. Draco had been in the middle of an internal battle whether or not to throw something in his mouth when the owl had tapped the window with its beak.

He watched it go away as soon as he'd fetched the letter, and sat at the table by the window to read it. He was soon reminded that the airy looking girl had been in Ravenclaw. She'd sent a report of her testing, in details. She'd sent the recipe for every attempt at her potion, the tiniest detail changing each time. Draco got caught in reading it, the last attempt had triggered something in the father's eyes when he'd seen Hermione's picture, but he still had no memory of her.

Sighing Draco decided that he had nothing better to do than to study the recipe on this day off. Watching Blaise snore or continue his research for work in the Black's collection wasn't more appealing anyway.

"What're you doing?" Draco jumped, Blaise was sitting at the small table by the window too, facing him, and he hadn't even heard him.

"Err, healer's project." The confusion on his friend's face made him look like a clown. He glanced at the scroll.

"Ah? Granger?" Draco intervened before he could smirk or make assumptions:

"Granger's parents."

"What about them?" He asked with a confused frown.

"Err …" Draco had no idea how to start. It wasn't a secret. He could tell Blaise, but he didn't really want anyone to know that he was involved. Longbottom already suspected that he was the donator, and that was well enough. He'd said too much already anyway so he finally told him about Granger's parents.

"She told you that?" He asked.

"Err yes. Longbottom had asked me to …"

"Right, but I mean, she told you just like that?" Blaise 's incredulity morphed into a knowing smile Draco didn't really like.

"What?"

"I don't know. Just a simple friendly chat when you two clearly couldn't stand the other?" Shit.

"Yes. She was upset, she talked and that's it."

"Yeah, like I believe that. So now what, you're working on their recovery?"

"Not exactly. Lovegood is, and she needed founds to start testing a potion so …"

"So you jumped in …"

"I could help. I did. That's the end of it."

"Still not coming with me to see her then?"

"No, I've got work to do."

"Yeah, right. Great excuse." He said, standing and walking out to the door. Draco ignored his comment.

"Don't tell her I'm the donator."

"Why would I? Wouldn't want her to want to see you or anything."

"Right. Just don't."

"Yeah I won't, but just so you know, you're a moron." And he closed the door behind him. Blaise just didn't understand. After seeing Granger the last time, he couldn't pretend they were simple friends, and just walk in to see how she was doing. He couldn't, and he wouldn't.

A loud knock made her jump from her book. Zabini entered before she could answer, followed by Dean.

"Shit you troll! You made me jump! Dean! Are you feeling better?" Zabini chuckled and Dean seemed suddenly quite uncomfortable.

"Err … Yes. I think I was just really tired. But how are you?" She decided not to press the matter.

"I can stand for thirty seconds." She tried for a smile but it must have looked really faked since Zabini chuckled some more.

"Err … It's slow eh?" Asked Dean.

"Really. I'm about to loose my shit in this hole BUT thanks to you I have company. Even if it's trolls." She shot the last part giving a pointed look at the concerned dark man.

"Ah, you're welcome. They just kept arguing it was … annoying."

After a bit of auror chatting, since they still kept her updated against Kingsley's orders, she'd learnt that four of the sympathisers that had fled that night had been caught by Ron, Lavender and Dean, only one was left but they doubted he'd stayed around. They told her that Colin had finally joined, and that Zabini was torturing him as a game. Which she reprimanded, to no avail. And when the conversation lowered in intensity, the question that kept poking at her head grew louder in her skull. Of course she couldn't just ask about Malfoy openly, she didn't want Zabini making more assumptions, and she didn't want Dean to start making some of his own either.

"So, the team's working just fine then?" She asked instead.

"Yes, well there's still no one willing to do the paperwork and we need a new ward specialist but I think Malfoy might take the spot soon."

"Oh, really?" She faked banal interest, it worked on Dean, not so much on Zabini .

"Yes, he's been practising. But without you to teach it's tough work."

"Ah." She'd learned on the job too, and knew it wasn't an easy task, that involved a lot of research and personal training. Malfoy would be up to the task though, she knew it.

"He'll do fine. I have no worries."

"Me neither. He's got time now that things have settled down a bit. Soon we'll be back to regular auror work." She nodded but Zabini asked, as she opened her mouth to answer:

"About that Granger, what're you going to do?" She closed it the instant. She still hadn't come up with a plan.

"I … I have no idea."

"Wow, isn't it the first time you don't know something you know-it-all?" Zabini smirked.

"It might actually."

"You really don't know?" Asked Dean, his face as surprised as Zabini had been before his comment.

"No. But I'll figure something out. Don't worry." Zabini smirked:

"You could join a disabled club. You know, for the cripples, you could teach them all about the proper way to limp." Dean burst out laughing with no shame. Her glare had no effect on either of them and she suddenly felt like Dean had taken a bit of the Slytherin's mockery for himself.

"Yes troll, I could. But then I'd have to invite you over to teach the retarded the proper way to retard."

"Wow, great comeback! Did us Slytherins finally got to you Granger?"

"You wish." He just grinned at that.

After a few more pleasantries, the duo left her to her books and Hermione reflected on what she'd been told. So Malfoy was taking her spot. Of course, even though she'd taught her a bit, Lavender would never abandon her present position, she loved being on front. Plus, Malfoy already had skills in the area, he would be great for the position. Maybe she could send him her own researches? No, he'd made it clear he didn't want to hear from her. But then, it wouldn't be anything personal, she wouldn't use her parchment or anything, she'd just owl him her notes. Still, she hesitated, she'd need to ask someone to fetch them for her anyway. Maybe she'd ask Harry the next day.

The hesitation lasted about the whole night so she did, first thing the next morning. Harry disapparated to her flat and came back straight away with her huge pile of notes. An owl would never be able to carry that much though. She would have to sort it through before sending it. Or she could always ask Harry to give the lot to Malfoy.

"What's it for Mione?" Or maybe not.

"I'm bored."

Harry wasn't dupe. Those were the researches she'd made when becoming their ward breaker. Dean had kept her updated and for sure, she knew Malfoy was to take her position. She had no reason to look through these again, as she was the expert. Plus, Harry had talked to Lavender, and even if the blond girl had stayed evasive, she'd still told him Hermione was upset. Seeing the face she made anytime his name popped up in a conversation, Harry guessed that Malfoy's absence was hurting her.

"Would you like for me to give them to Malfoy?" Here, that face.

"Err … I …"

"Isn't that why you wanted them Mione?" She closed her eyes as if to decide what to answer but finally confessed:

"Yes it is. I don't know if I should though. Do you think he'd use them?"

"Those are your notes Hermione, anyone not interested in them is a moron." She finally smiled.

"Would you mind then?"

"Absolutely not. I'll see him at work anyway. But if you prefer I can ask him to come fetch them."

"Err … no thanks. Just give it to him." Again, that face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Harry gave her an unconvinced mouth pout and she reluctantly added:

"Right, he won't come if you ask him so just …"

"Why?"

"I … I don't really know. It doesn't matter anyway Harry, just take the notes it'll help the team."

When Harry went to work an hour later, he'd decided on heading straight to the ferret's desk.

When Draco arrived at the department that morning, exactly five days after seeing Granger, Potter was there, waiting for him at his desk. He held a humongous pile of scrolls in his arms, his jaw was tensed and he was watching him suspiciously.

"What?"

"Hermione asked me to give you these." He stated, inspecting his reaction with pleated eyes. Granger, again. Draco remained stoic.

"What are they?"

"Her personal notes from when she started working on wards." Oh, so she knew he'd been asked to take her position then. She'd also decided to help, even after the way they'd parted ways. She hadn't used her parchment. The thought tightened his chest but at least she'd understood that Draco couldn't see her, even if she'd probably never know why. Or maybe she knew and didn't care.

"Oh." Was all he could say. Potter didn't seem to appreciate his lack of words though.

"I don't know why you keep making excuses not to see her Malfoy, and maybe it's none of my business, but she was clearly upset this morning when she gave me those. You better at least thank her." She was still upset? Wait, who the hell did he think he was?

"You're right Potter it's none of your business. But don't worry I'm well educated, I'll thank her. Not that I needed you to told me to." Potter put the scrolls down on the desk and took a step closer to Draco, he was smaller than him but apparently tried to look menacing anyway.

"I know you saved her life, and I am beyond grateful Malfoy, but it won't excuse any misbehaviour towards her. She comes first. You being part of the team or not. She comes first, never forget that."

The glare he gave Draco said long, he wasn't joking around. Draco huffed, he'd known their change of attitude towards him had only been until he'd do something they wouldn't like anyway. They trusted him to be on the right side, to work with them and do the right thing, but they didn't trust him personally. After all, Draco had always been sneering and mean to them. Old habits died hard anyway, and Potter's sudden swap from friendliness to animosity didn't help him to keep his composure.

"As if I didn't know that. But again, I do as I please and it's none of your business."

"We'll see about that." The goggled scarhead hissed before going away.

Draco rubbed his face with both hands and sat down. The scrolls were definitely hers, he recognised the hand writing. Neat and small, to fit more words on the paper, he was sure of it now. At least she hadn't gone back to hating him, he guessed that if they crossed path again one day, the encounter wouldn't be hateful, awkward for sure, but not hateful.

Now he had to thank her. First because she'd tried to help, despite his goodbyes, and surely those would help, and second because deep down he didn't really want to go back to how bad things were with Potter before he'd joined the team. He'd come to respect him, and they'd managed a steady working partnership. He didn't want to ruin it, he wanted to keep working there.

He had two options, the first being sending a note by owl, which would make things easier for him, he wouldn't have to wait impatiently for a response, for there probably wouldn't be one. But it would make it look as if he'd destroyed the parchment and even if he didn't know if it mattered to her, it did to him and he didn't want her to destroy hers in return. The second option was using the parchment, but it would be using their connection again, and it could make it seem as if he was trying to starts things over.

He had no wish for her to think he had destroyed the connection, and no wish to revive it either. Going there was out of the question. He had no idea what to do but apparently his body knew. His left hand had landed in his pocket unconsciously and was toying with a corner of the parchment.

He could always just say thank you, without carrying on the conversation. Yes, he wouldn't answer after. His eyes drifted to the notes before him, and before he knew it, the parchment was flat on the table.

- I have your notes. Thanks.

Here, short and concise, not engaging conversation. The words took less than a minute to disappear, her parchment was still with her.

- You're welcome …

She'd gotten a quill. He had a desk full of her handwriting in front of him but he hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. He should have sent an owl, now, he only wanted to ask why the three dots. To start talking again? He couldn't. Not acknowledging it would be showing he didn't care. But he did. But he didn't want her to know he did. He should have sent an owl.

He wouldn't answer. She knew he wouldn't. But she kept looking at her parchment, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. She'd tried, again. Deep down she knew it mattered. Maybe it didn't for him and Lavender was wrong. The three dots had been an attempt, subtle maybe, but an attempt nonetheless. She didn't want to become the pathetic little girl, crying for his attention, when she had no idea how much of it she wanted. But it hurt to be rejected again. It was over. Why was he even keeping that bloody piece of parchment? Why would he write on it after saying goodbye for good? He could have asked Harry or anyone else to thank her for him, or sent an owl for Godric's sake but no, he'd had to write there.

Maybe she was seeing it all wrong. Maybe he still cared and it was why he'd kept and used the parchment. Maybe her attempt had been too subtle. Maybe she'd misinterpreted everything. Maybe Lavender was right, but she'd tried. If she was completely honest with herself, she probably wouldn't have thought of giving her scrolls away to anyone else. She'd done it mostly because it was him, and she cared. She couldn't help but care. But what if Lavender was wrong and he'd just been passing time before, and saved her life to … absurd.

The logical part of her brain told her he liked her, but had somehow set his stubborn mind on her inevitably rejecting him.
She had to sort through her feelings. She had to decide if she wanted to try something with him. A little voice in the corner of her mind was incoherently babbling. Her logical brain was louder and was asking a question. Did she, Hermione Jean Granger like Draco Lucius Malfoy?

Apparently it asked but had decided not to help her answer.

The battle in her mind didn't resume, not during the day, not during the next day. On Saturday she'd been distracted by Molly's visit, Andromeda's, George's, Kingsley's and finally Dean and Neville's. They'd all come at different times between which Luna had come to try and make her walk.

By the end of Saturday she had no idea what to do about Malfoy, no idea how to react if she saw him at the funeral, no idea how she'd manage to walk with a cane there anyway, no idea what to do with her life in general once she'd be out of Mungo's. In other words, when Sunday came, she was a complete wreck.