Blaise Zabini had spent the evening drinking with his best friend, sharing old childhood and Hogwarts memories. The melancholy of the night was slowly replaced with a raging headache, as he woke up the next morning. Draco had gone to work already, and Blaise decided to mix a pepper up with his morning coffee. It was his turn to go visit Granger, and he had something to ask her.

He also wanted to know something, and he was determined to find out.

His best friend hadn't talked about her, but anytime Blaise had spoken her name the night before, he'd seen Draco's face grow sombre, and he'd known. He had known for quite some time anyway, Blondie had too, and apparently Draco had finally come to acknowledge his own feelings. He wouldn't act on them though. Blaise would have to.

All that was left to know now, before mingling in his best friend's life and risking his wrath, was if Granger returned the lad's feelings.

Blondie had owled him, offering to go with him, but he'd resolved on going by himself. He'd been alone with Granger only once, and she'd confided in him, maybe he'd get lucky this time too. Blondie had told him all about what had happened between the two stubborn idiots, after making him swear never to repeat a word of course, and he hoped he'd be able to do something.

So it was his mind set on a goal, that would hopefully keep his sombre thoughts at bay, that he apparated to Saint Mungo's.

Hermione woke up the next morning, having spent an awful night of drifting in and out of a very bad half-asleep state mingled with unpleasant nightmares. The last image of Mrs Zabini's body vanished to be replaced with a low but irritating headache, that Luna hadn't been able to soothe since she was under so many potions already.

Her confused thoughts hadn't de-tangled once up and as she couldn't sort them through, she settled on occupying her hands. She took her quill from the night stand and started practising transfigurations. One by one, from her first year at Hogwarts, in the precise order Minerva had taught her.

She was through her third year repertory, trying to figure out which lesson had been the fifth of the first semester when someone entered without knocking.

"Hey book-worm! What're you doing?" Zabini entered the room alone, with one of his grins, Hermione suspected him to believe it to be some kind of girl trap.

"Transfigurations." He pulled a face that resolved his grin. Not so cute any more.

"Err … Why?" She chuckled, setting the ex-quill now-glass on the night stand.

"Because I'm bored."

"When I'm bored, I drink." He said, and came to sit on the chair at her bedside.

"Even if I thought drinking to be a normal hobby, I couldn't drink in here. Speaking of which, how are you?" He snorted but gave her a real smile when he looked up at her.

"Fine. A bit hangover but fine."

"Take a pepper up …"

"Already did. Now, how are you? Had trouble walking yesterday."

"It's slow but I'm making progress. I'll be back on my feet soon."

"Good. When are you leaving this jail?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh? When you can't walk …"

"I'm moving in at Grimmaud with Harry. Don't worry."

"Ah, nurse Potter here to take care of his brain." She huffed and corrected:

"Ah ah. Ginny will be the nurse actually." He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive way that made her roll her eyes to the ceiling, which didn't really help her headache. Chuckling, he changed the subject:

"Still no idea what you're going to do ?"

"Nope. None."

"Mm. You'll find something, and if you don't I'm sure offers will flow."

"Maybe. Nobody knows I quit yet so …"

"Maybe you could keep working with wards …" He said tentatively, as if gauging her reaction.

"What about wards?"

"I know it doesn't really exist but you could become some kind of ward maker, protecting houses …"

"But I'll be the guardian of every house …"

"Not if you manage to find a way to pass on the wards to someone else."

Hermione blinked. Several times. His idea was a real good one. If she could break wards, she could certainly swap guardians. Her mind started racing, she'd need that book she'd used at Grimmaud, and that one from her flat, and … shit she'd need her notes.

"Granger?"

Malfoy had her notes. Damn. She'd have to ask. Maybe she could start over, after all it was a totally different approach.

"Granger?"

"Eh?"

"I take it you find the idea interesting?"

"Fuck yes." He grinned profusely but a second later it morphed, and he seemed nervous, an expression she'd never seen on Blaise Zabini. It was the least to say it didn't look good on him. His self-confidence was more his style.

"You could start practising at my place. Actually …" He cut himself.

"Yes?" She tried frowning.

"I wanted to ask you to ward it for me …"

"Really?" She asked, taken aback, did he trust her that much?

"Well, I know it's hard work but …" Ah, ward maker made sense now.

"I could pass them on to you once I figure out how."

"I like that there is no conditional here. You think you can do it?"

"I'm sure I can. But I'll need my notes and maybe a trip to Hogwarts, there were a few volumes there if I reckon …"

"You remember what books were at Hogwarts?" He gave her the wide-eyes. She'd never seen so many expressions on his face before.

"Yes I do. And actually it's a shame we can't use the Malfoy library any more …"

"Speaking of which. I'm glad you branch the blond subject …" Now he was smirking.

"Err, I didn't."

"I do then, what's going on?" Shit. Why did this name always had to come up? She berated herself inwardly for a few seconds for saying it and finally answered:

"Nothing actually."

"And why is that?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Well what do you think should be going on?"

"I don't know, you could … hang out?" He tried, his little cornered smile an infuriating sight.

"Err, why? I'm not an auror any more, we don't work together and it's not like we were friends or anything." Oh, big fat lie. Big fat lie readable on her face from the atrium of saint Mungo's. Zabini rolled his eyes, sighed and watched her with exasperation. She didn't dare elaborate, for it would only look more suspicious. Finally, he lifted a hand to her fore-arm, making her frown profusely, and said:

"I can smell denial, and it's not a pleasant smell Granger."

"Err, what denial?" Shit wrong question.

"So you're telling me you two were not friends before?"

"Err …" She rubbed her face. "Look, we're not now anyway so …"

"What makes you think that?" She sighed, he'd probably talked with Lavender anyway, and according to her he thought Malfoy liked her too. There was no real reason to lie to him.

"He doesn't want to see me again Blaise. I offered … I tried. I even gave him my notes when I learned he was taking my position and all I got was a thanks."

"So you want to see him again?"

"Well, he saved my life, I … I thought we'd at least stay friends but …"

"Friends?"

"Yes Blaise, friends."

"So that's all? You want to be friends?"

"Yes, that's all." As she said it her stomach flipped. She had no idea if it was protesting because she didn't really want to be his friend, or because of something else.

"Then I think I know why he doesn't want to see you." She felt her face discompose as Blaise's became all serious. She swallowed before asking:

"Why?"

"I think he can't stand being your friend." What? Blaise's pause lasted longer than necessary. Hermione kept still, her brain frozen, empty of thoughts, something really unpleasant creeping up her spine.

"Ah." Was all she managed to say.

"Because he wants something more." He finally said and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Relieved?"

"Eh? No … I … I mean … I don't know." She'd never stuttered more. Her brain was still frozen and she couldn't process a coherent thought.

"I see that. Look, I think you should talk to him."

"I did!" There brain here again. "I tried to talk and he just … he stayed silent and then he walked out. What am I supposed to do?"

"Try again."

"Why would I? If he doesn't want friendship … I don't know if …"

"Then think about it. Granger do you like him?"

"I …" Shit, blank again. Ah, no, here. "Wait you're not even sure! Did he tell you anything?"

"Well, no but …"

"Then you don't know. For all I know we became friends during hard times, when we felt lonely and that's it. It's over now. I'm not an auror any more …"

"He saved your life. Granger, he cried for two days when you didn't wake up …" She froze.

"What?"

"Shit." Blaise looked like he'd let out something he really shouldn't have.

"Are you serious?" He hesitated a few more seconds and finally sighed and told it all:

"Shit I came here to make you talk not the other way around. Look Granger, he really almost beat the shit out of Jordan to get to you. We were all duelling and we were loosing. We couldn't afford to leave to get to you just yet but … Blondie told me that he looked like he'd kill to get to you. He was a mess and then when he brought you here, he tapped the coin and by chance I could come. It was almost over on our side so Potter told me to go." He paused, apparently still hesitating.

"And?"

"And he refused treatment until he knew you were taken care of." He sighed. "Then he spent the two days you were out, crying and harassing Lovegood to know how you were. I'd never seen him like that. That's why we also took turns at his bedside. He didn't care about his own injuries, he just kept asking about you."

"Shit." That much? Hermione rubbed her face with both hands, she couldn't believe her ears but Zabini seemed very serious.

"To his defence, I saw you right after, you were …" She let her hands fall on her lap.

"You were there?"

"Potter let me go with a condition."

"Which was?"

"To make sure you were okay. So I forced myself in the room and … I thought you were dead too."

"That bad?" She winced.

"That bad Granger. I guess finding you kind of traumatised him but …"

"How can you say it's not just that then? I mean …"

"I can tell, I know him. Trust me there's not only that. He's … hem. Just trust me on this Granger."

"All right. But even if he does want something more Blaise, he still refused to see me and I don't know …"

"Talk to him."

"I don't know …"

"Just think about it Granger."

"Right." Like she hadn't tried already. It was all she'd been able to think about for the past week. And she still had no idea what to do. Maybe she should talk to him. Try again. Maybe she'd at least convince him to remain friends. Maybe. Then she could see what would happen.

Draco had gone to work that day, a nice hangover going on, and Granger's teary face printed on his retina. Which didn't help his researches. Especially since he had to go through her notes. Her handwriting confirmed, once again, that she could squeeze about double the amount of words a regular person would write on a single scroll. Plus, as expected, they were brilliant. All the books he'd found seemed useless once he'd read through part of her notes. She'd read said books of course, and crossed knowledge with others he had, or more often hadn't, and made conclusions and hypothesis. She'd then only confirmed said conclusions or hypothesis with other sources. She'd never crossed a wrong one, at least on what he'd read by then.

He lost himself in them the entire day, and practised some of her theories and explanations in his office. Fucking brilliant and so detailed that he didn't fail once. But by the end of the day the only very persistent thought that kept coming to his mind was the way she'd squeezed his arm the day before. She'd tried, again, handing him an olive branch. Should he take it? Even if he'd obviously suffer being her friend. Maybe he'd suffer more not seeing her at all. She was constantly in his mind, everything made him think of her and staying away clearly wasn't helping. Maybe they could start talking on the parchment again? Maybe if they kept it at that it wouldn't be so hard? Maybe it could just go back to what it was? But if they didn't see each other … eventually it'd stop. They had nothing to talk about after all. Or did they? Maybe he could just ask her a question about her notes. Take the olive branch she kept offering. And then what?

Draco didn't know what to do. Blaise hadn't pressed the subject the night before but he'd purposely spoken of her every occasion given. Draco knew he'd done it on purpose. His friend was trying to help, he was trying to push him towards her.

Draco stood to go home and realised he had his left hand in his pocket, toying with a corner of the parchment. He went to the lift and then to the atrium, toying with it still. Then he disapparated to Grimmaud. He landed unsteadily on the threshold, his hand still in his pocket and went to the kitchen to grab a bite. He sat at the large table, unable to stop fidgeting. Growling he laid the parchment flat on the table and rubbed his face in his hands.

Harry entered the kitchen of Grimmaud place that night, after checking that Hermione's room was ready for the next day, so it was late enough that he was sure to find the room empty. But when he came in, Malfoy and Zabini were sitting silently across from each other, a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey between them, and a piece of parchment in front of Malfoy. The last looked positively angry.

"What's going on?" Zabini lifted his head and grimaced. Ah, not a good time.

"Err … Draco …"

"Shut the fuck up Blaise." Harry's surprise was shrugged away by Zabini, literally. Harry grabbed himself a clean glass, went to sit at the end of the table, between the two, and snatched the bottle to pour some in it.

"Malfoy what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"That's clearly a lie."

"Would you just mind your own business for once? Both of you. Mind you own shit." Harry was about to retort nastily but Zabini cut in.

"It's about Granger."

"Fuck Blaise!" Harry wondered what Hermione had, again, to do with Malfoy and thought of warning him that she would be moving in. He didn't want whatever was happening with the blond to alter her rest.

"Well trouble coming then because …" Zabini's wide-eyed him so hard he looked like a clown. He shook his head sharply so Harry didn't finish his sentence.

"What trouble?" Malfoy's anger had dropped significantly though. He'd lifted his head abruptly and was now watching Harry with questioning eyes.

"Err, she …"

"Still can't walk properly." Finished Zabini. Harry had no idea why Zabini wouldn't let him tell Malfoy that she was moving in, which was the exact reason he was so late, he'd checked on her flat too, right after work, but he nodded still.

"Ah." Was Malfoy's response. Then he stood, grabbed the parchment Harry had recognised as his way to speak with Hermione, and walked out without a word, but still banging the door close.

"You made him run away. I was finally getting somewhere." Whined Zabini.

"You were silent when I came in."

"He stopped talking when you walked in."

"Ah. And what was he saying?"

"Err …"

"Look, I know something's going on between the two. She refuses to speak about it …" Zabini smirked at that.

"Really? Ah ah! She talked to me today!"

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm pretty Potter and you're not." Harry frowned.

"What the hell is going on Zabini? And why did you cut me?"

"Don't tell him she's moving in or he'll move out the instant."

"Well, exactly. I told her you were moving out. Because you were supposed to move out."

"I will, once she's warded my place. She agreed to, but I didn't tell her we were still here."

"So you're not moving out? You do realise it's not a hotel right? I'm moving out of Meda's because it's too crowded and …"

"We won't stay much longer Potter. I'm sure she'll come ward my place whether she can walk or not."

"Right. You still didn't answer though. What's going on with Malfoy?" Zabini hesitated a few seconds, but seemed to finally decide he could tell him.

"He likes her." Harry blinked several times. The very thought was alien. Draco Malfoy, the ferret that had bullied her for years, liked her? Her, as in Hermione Granger?

"What did you drink Zabini? Are you out of your mind?" The last chuckled.

"Nope. It's true and he's finally confessed it. And she knows." Harry blanched, the ferret liked her and she knew? She knew? She knew and she was still sad that he was not around?

"What? And what is she going to do about it? Marry the mother-fucking ferret?" He spat angrily.

"Maybe that's why she didn't tell you." Snapped Zabini. Harry's bubbling anger vanished at that statement. Why would he react like that? They were not in school any more. It'd felt like they'd just been out of Hogwarts and the precedent years, and more importantly weeks, had vanished. Harry had forgotten how Malfoy was now for a moment. How Hermione was too. And how he'd saved her life.

"Shit, I'm the worst friend ever."

"Kinda."

"Err … does she like him too?" That would be … just …

"I think she has no idea what to do with that. That's why she doesn't need to know he'll be around here. And likewise for him."

"So they can what? Talk?"

"I hope they will."

"Wait, there's still something I don't understand. Why didn't he take his turns then? Why doesn't he want to see her?"

"He thinks she'll reject him."

"And she just might." Harry shouldn't, but he kind of hoped so.

"I don't think so. I think she's as much in denial as he was until you stormed in like an interrupting idiot."

"Careful here Zabini. I could just throw you out."

"Or you could help me get the two little birdies together."

Draco stormed out the kitchen feeling like he had, yet again, given too much. He'd talked too much. It was something he'd found himself doing quite a lot lately. Lately as in since he'd charmed that damn parchment. Granger, always Granger. She'd invaded his thoughts, and ever since he'd kept confessing shit around like a Hufflepuff.

Growling he slammed the door to his room too for good measure. Let the others, and especially Blaise, know that he wasn't happy about being manipulated into confessing whatever he felt with a few glasses of firewhiskey and a well placed empathic comment.

So, Blaise knew. Draco had finally given up on denying the whole thing to him. After all, he was his best friend, and he had already known, probably even before Draco had himself. That didn't help his precedent ordeal though, as he still had no idea whether to start talking with her again. Blaise had clearly encouraged him to try, and said that giving up before trying would be stupid.

"You got nothing to loose mate, you don't talk to her any more."

Draco had been reflecting on that when saint Potter had entered and triggered his anger. There was no way in hell that he would share anything personal with Potter.

Blaise had made a point though, and now that Draco was alone in his room he was back to toying with the parchment, unable to decide what to do. It was really late anyway and he couldn't write to her right now, so the decision could and would have to wait until morning.

Except now, he couldn't sleep.

Hermione had spent the day, after Blaise's visit, decidedly finishing her review of her transfiguration classes. It had taken her mind off of Malfoy related issues. Because yes, it was an issue. When Hermione Granger couldn't figure out something, it became an issue, that needed solving. Except that for this one there wasn't a book or a spell to fix it. What she had to do was to sort through her feelings and she wasn't too good at that. She'd never been. She always resolved on bossing people around, swearing out loud like a banshee, or hexing people. The last two being quite recent abilities she'd discovered after the war. Wait, no, she'd actually hexed Ron in sixth year, all because he hadn't guessed how she'd felt, and because she'd been unable to simply tell him. Only the swearing was an aftermath of the war.

She realised upon that thought that Draco Malfoy and herself were quite alike on the matter. He'd always felt uncomfortable anytime he'd confessed something feelings related. But at least he'd confessed it, now he kept his mouth shut, and his quill away from the parchment she was holding and looking at desperately despite herself.

What she knew for sure, was that it hurt not to speak to him any more. The rest was a large puddle of mud she was stuck into with no way out, but that she was sure of. She'd tried already though, more than once and he kept ignoring it.

When she'd been about to pass him at the funeral, her eyes cowardly lowered to her feet, she'd again showed that her friendship was still there, if he ever wanted it, but she hadn't heard of him anyhow. Should she try again?

One last try, that would make her look desperate, but that would, maybe, erase the regrets she might have later if she didn't?

What would she say to him anyway? She could probably tell him about Blaise's idea of a ward maker and pretext needing a copy of the notes she'd landed him. He would send it, and maybe the conversation would keep going after that.

Maybe. It was too late anyway to write right now, and she would be moving at Grimmaud the next evening. She'd set her mind once settled there. Right. She'd just do that.

Except that now the anticipation was eating her, and she couldn't sleep.

Draco spent the night shifting. He'd fallen asleep eventually but when his wand woke him up, it felt like he'd just closed his eyes. He stood and realised he'd slept with the parchment next to him, like a fucking security blanket and felt stupid. If his feelings were this strong, they'd never go away without him at least trying to do something about it. Blaise was right, he was fucking right.

It was quite early, but the checking of patients was always early, so she'd probably be up anyway.

Draco straightened the wrinkled parchment and settled it on the crannied desk next to the dresser. He dipped his quill in ink and lowered it to the parchment. He was trying to decide what to write when a drop of ink fell on the otherwise blank surface. Horror slapped him right in the face. Shit, write something quick!

- Hi

Bloody idiot. This time he slapped his forehead himself. Hi. Great, just great. What a fucking idiot. The more he waited the more he felt like a moron, he needed to add something before she saw … Too late.

- Hi, I was about to write too …

Oh? Really? Draco felt his stomach jump at the thought, but his brain disagreed with the cheering. She'd probably needed something.

- Oh, what about?

- You first.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

- I had a question about your notes.

Better think of something now.

- Go ahead.

Yeah, right, easy.

- You've altered the muggle-repellent charm so that it would extend however you like, I wondered how, you didn't precise.

Lame, just fucking lame. He hadn't read all of it, she had probably explained the whole process and with multiple details on another scroll he hadn't opened yet.

- I have, it's in the same scroll as the threshold blasting research. Although those lead nowhere, I never finished them.

Exactly as predicted. Now that he had his answer, to a question he hadn't been asking himself for a second, all he wanted to know was why she'd been about to write too.

- I'll read through it then. Did you need anything?

- Yes, Blaise had an idea I find extremely interesting, about becoming some sort of ward maker, and I would need a copy of my notes to work on it from the start. Would you mind sending me one?

Blaise? No more Zabini? Ward maker? What did that even mean? Oh he wanted her to ward his place, right, but becoming a ward maker would make her the guardian of every place she'd ward. Being the guardian of Zabini manor should be well enough, yet she'd accepted apparently. Why? He refrained asking.

- Not at all.

- Thanks …

Those three dots were infuriating. But also some kind of proof she didn't want the conversation to end right now. Which made his insides dance again. Why not ask then?

- No need, your notes. Can I ask something?

- Course.

- Blaise told me you agreed to ward his place, doesn't it bother you to become guardian of his manor? Wouldn't a ward maker be guardian too?

Oh he was an idiot. She needed her researches to find a way not to be guardian. Of course. He wrote quickly.

- Never mind. Trying to find a way to pass on the wards to someone else, right?

- Exactly. Being guardian of Zabini Manor isn't the most appealing job.

Nope, it sure wouldn't be.

- That I understand. You'd have to come around and alter the wards every other day, too many ladies.

Maybe talking about Blaise's habits as a bachelor wasn't the wisest subject of conversation. Too late, maybe she'd find it funny.

- Not for long. Lavender's going to make a move.

No way! Finally Draco had something on the lad. Blaise had assured him that nothing had happened between the two of them, and that all they did was flirt innocently, but that!

- Really? How do you know?

- I convinced her. Subtly.

Draco couldn't hold his laughter. Granger, subtle? Like when she'd tried to convince Potter to shelter them? Ludicrous, impossible.

- Subtly? I don't know why, but I don't believe that.

- Right, I didn't do it on purpose.

Draco smiled, that looked more like a truth.

- That's better.

Hermione had written a letter to Minerva first thing in the morning, to ask for a visit at Hogwarts' library, and mostly to keep herself from writing on the parchment this early. She'd settled the letter on the night stand, to send it once at Grimmaud, and grabbed the parchment right after. Spending the night gritting her teeth at very idea of waiting to be at Grimmaud to write would have made her parents scream in horror. Yet, it was what she'd done and it seemed that she'd taken her decision anyway, so there was no point in waiting. She'd been about to write when a drop of ink had appeared on the parchment, quickly followed with a hi.

He'd written. She hadn't been able to repress her smile. He'd taken the olive branch she'd kept handing him. The conversation had been a bit cold, maybe too formal, but it was conversation nonetheless. The subject had just drifted to Lavender and Blaise, and Hermione had just decided to write as she'd always done, minus the insults and banter. It felt weird, alien. Like two strangers trying to communicate about really personal matters. But at his last sentence, she'd felt a slight mockery. The tone was nothing as it'd once been, but it was implied.

- That's better.

What was she supposed to answer to that? Was that how the conversation would end? Probably.

No. She hadn't tried yet, he had written first. She had her last attempt to write.

- I would normally tell you to stuff your assumptions about me somewhere painful, but it seems we're not doing that any more.

Here, right to the point. And probably a bit too blunt. It took him more time to reply this time and her nerves were holding on a really thin thread when he finally did.

- Exactly what I assumed, really subtle Granger. We could again, if you'd like.

They could?

- Would you?

- I asked first.

- You're annoying.

And he was.

- Should I take that as a yes? Or as a I don't, get lost?

Hermione wondered if she should just be honest with him, and resume the running around in circles. He kept answering, and he'd just said they could go back to what they had. He had to want it or he wouldn't have said that.

- I miss it.

- You do?

Godric she'd just said so!

- I do. But if you don't then I understand.

- I do too. I have no one to insult freely. I can't insult Potter any more, I work AND live with him.

Oh my, did he? Wait, he hadn't moved out?

- You're still at Grimmaud?

- Yes, why?

Harry had said they were moving out. Weird.

- Did you see Harry since the funeral?

- Yes, and again why?

- I'm moving in this afternoon. He told me you and Blaise were moving out.

- Oh really? Not yet, Blaise is waiting for you to ward his place first. And I haven't decided if I'll follow or go with my mother.

- Yes, he's offered since I'll need care. But he's lied to me and hasn't told you either. Blaise neither! I told him I was moving in yesterday!

- Blaise knows? We've been talking all evening and he didn't mention it. Potter neither. Actually now that I think about it, he probably was about to but he cut himself. Blaise finished his sentence.

- Oh, I don't know about you but my guts say someone's trying to put it's dirty black nose in our business.

- He sure is. Granger, I have a proposition for you.

- Sounds disgusting.

- All right, it was indeed a yes earlier. Nothing like that though, I want to make him pay.

- It was. How?

- I don't know yet. But I'm positive he'll try to have us talk tonight.

- Let him and scheme at Grimmaud then?

- Sounds good.

Just like that. Things were back to normal. Almost. Hermione felt like it wasn't quite that. Plus, they'd agreed a bit too easily on seeing each other. He'd feel awkward for sure. She needed to push it a bit.

- Settled then. See you tonight, ferret.

- Yes, tonight, book-worm.

She chuckled, things were indeed, back to normal.

Granger didn't hold grudges. It'd just been as if they'd never stopped talking.

I miss it. That had made his heart tighten, essentially what had made him want to see her that night. But she was moving in at Grimmaud, so much for keeping it as before, just a parchment thing. Now they were going to live together. He was going to see her face everyday. And those damned freckles of hers. Shit.

But, I miss it, he couldn't dare think … no, he wouldn't. Or maybe … maybe he could try something. What he had no idea, but perhaps if he just tried …
What if she rejected him? She sure wouldn't be that forgiving if he broke the fragile friendship to try something she certainly didn't want.

What about letting things go? Overthinking things had never given him more than a headache anyway. Plus, the very thought of seeing her made his insides jump in happiness and even if his mind repeatedly told him to stay clear headed and to avoid false hopes, he couldn't help but smile like a bloody idiot. He was going to see her again, and things were good.

That's how he spent the day. Trying to repress a smug smile by biting the inside of his cheeks furiously. By four in the afternoon he'd drawn blood.

But by five stress had taken over. He was going to see her. She didn't want him. She wanted to be his friend. He'd never be with her, he was just going to watch her from afar, when she'd be in the same room. This was a very bad idea.

He couldn't back up now though. Pretexting being stuck at work wouldn't work when Potter and Blaise would be home. Avoiding her when he'd said he'd be there would hurt her feelings. He'd have to go and face all he wanted but would never have.

Shit.