The week passed slowly. Hermione kept herself busy by resigning from her job at the ministry and applying to become a healer. She was still waiting to receive her letter informing her whether she was suitable for the course, but Ginny assured her she would make the cut. Kingsley had approached her about her resignation, all but begging her not to leave, but she shook her head sadly.

"I have wasted years away in this job, Minister. I need to do something more. This wasn't what I had planned for my life."

After that she returned home and began the long process of cleaning her flat. It wouldn't have taken very long had she used magic but she found herself itching to fully immerse herself in the task. Besides, she wanted something to take her mind off things. Draco's reply had been short, expressing they meet in a muggle restaurant away from any press at the end of the week. She found that, when she was not busy, her mind drifted to the silver eyed man and their time together in Australia.

She found herself dreaming of him again. Draco was holding his hand out to her, a grand smile on his face.

"Come on, Hermione." He whispered, "Come here."

Her body moved of its own accord. Her hand, now clasped in Draco's, was brought up to his waiting lips. He softly planted kisses on her porcelain skin and admired the blush that grew there. His mouth began to sow its seeds up her arm, a tingling sensation flowering in its wake, across her collarbone, around her neck, upon her cheeks and then-

And then yes yes he was there and oh yes they were kissing and her fire matched his and oh Draco and their bodies entwined and the air filled with cries of please I've missed you I've missed you Hermione Hermione I love-

She woke up in a sweat. Warmth flooded through her. There was a dampness between her legs and an aching feeling she didn't recognise.

It wasn't that Hermione was innocent in that sense. She'd had experiences of her own. But they had always fallen short. She'd never gotten this feeling with Ron. Never felt desperate to have him. Never needed him. Before the war she had been too immersed in her studies, and during it she had been too focused on not dying, and after it she had tried to survive in this new world.

She groaned angrily and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Time to get up.

Draco spent his week doing a lot of paper work. He was sure he had dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep he had got. Blaise had even said he looked like he'd lost weight. Needless to say Draco felt a bit hopeless, which was not a feeling he hadn't come across in many years. It seemed everything reminded him of the witch he was trying particularly hard to forget about until their... date? Meeting? at the end of the week. Theo had taken to popping round every evening and reading aloud from Hogwarts: A History until Draco managed to physically remove him. Blaise had expressed how gorgeous Granger was whenever Draco was in the same room until Draco hit him with a silencing charm and his parents-

Oh his parents. They had sent him owl after owl asking him to visit.

"Draco!" His mother called enthusiastically as he stepped through the fireplace. She embraced him in a tight hug and pulled him to the conservatory where his father was already waiting. Lucius stood and greeted his son with a firm handshake, though Draco could see a slight anger hidden in his eyes. An anger that used to terrify him as a young boy. Now Draco held his gaze, refusing to back down. Lucius wasn't getting any younger. Draco would be the head of the family one day soon. His father no longer intimidated him.

Draco had barely even sat down before Lucius bombarded him with questions.

"I hear the position of Head Auror has been given to the Potter boy." His father drawled.

"Yes. That would be correct."

"I also heard that Harry found the majority of the muggle borns-,"

"Lucius," His mother scolded.

"And you found... one."

Draco merely nodded. Narcissa glared at her husband. Lucius pressed his lips together in annoyance.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Harry's the better man for the job. Clearly." Draco snapped. "Gawain made a choice. That choice was not me."

"Yes I can see that," Lucius muttered, "I want to know why you were not chosen."

The room fell silent for a moment as Draco contemplated his words. Narcissa took this time to pour some tea. Should he lie to his family? Tell his father that he had been lazy? Simply say the task had been too hard for him? They'd never believe that. Draco was extremely active and intelligent. His parents had not raised him to be incompetent. He could say that Hermione's blood status had repulsed him and held back from intervening, but for some reason Draco felt like he was dishonouring her somehow. Her blood certainly did not repulse him. In fact, he found the way her blood painted her cheeks with a delicious pink glow rather enticing. Should he...

"I fell in love."

Draco hardly registered he'd said the words until he heard the crash of the teapot as it smashed against the floor. The boiling water splattered against each of their legs, scalding, but none moved. Lucius hands shook slightly. Narcissa's wide eyes searched Draco's face, looking for the truth in his words on his features. Draco remained impassive.

"How dare you."

"Lucius-," Narcissa breathed, her fingers reaching out to stroke his back.

"How DARE YOU." Lucius stood suddenly, knocking the coffee table between them all slightly. Draco stood too, ripping his wand from its place in his pocket. His father ignored the stick pointed at him and lunged at his son, pushing him to the ground and wrapping his hands around his neck, hard enough to cause him discomfort, but not enough to cut off his airway completely. "HOW DARE YOU DEFILE YOURSELF WITH A MUDBLOOD. HOW DARE YOU DIRTY OUR NAME. THE NAME WE WORKED SO HARD TO KEEP PURE. YOU ARE NOT MY SON-,"

'LUCIUS." Narcissa screamed, weeping as she attempted to pull her husband off her son. Draco refused to retaliate. His breaths fell short and he struggled, but he held his father's cold gaze. Narcissa began to hit at Lucius' back, yelling for him to let Draco go. Lucius blinked once. Then twice. His hands loosened. Draco took that as his chance to break away and rushed to his feet, leaning against the window as he drew air back into his lungs. He could hear the sounds of his father soothing his mother and turned to see her in his arms, her hands covering her face. The sound of her sobs twisted painfully into his gut. He reached towards her. Narcissa pushed herself from Lucius' arms and took Draco's hands in hers.

"We have all fought for so long. We have suffered for so long, Draco. Find happiness. Find it and don't let it go."

Draco nodded once and kissed his mother on the cheek. He glanced over at his father who was still red in the face with anger. Both their eyes narrowed.

"I am your only heir." Draco exclaimed, "And I followed you blindly as a boy. I have made so many mistakes. I was a bully. I was mean and spiteful. I let hatred and ignorance rule me. I became a death eater. I became a coward. And even after the war, I listened to your wishes to marry me off to Astoria. I tried to make that work. But I will not listen to your influence any longer, father. I am your only heir. And if our pureblood line ends with me - so be it."

The restaurant was understated and cosy. The walls were a soft red and the lights were dim, giving off what Draco hoped would be a romantic atmosphere. He wondered maybe if it would seem like he was trying too hard. While he waited for Hermione to show he ordered a bottle of wine for the table and poured two glasses.

Half an hour passed. She had not shown up. Draco had drained his glass and poured himself another. He told himself that if she did not arrive within the hour he would leave and never contact her again. Ten minutes passed at an agonising pace. He undid the top button of his shirt. He realigned the cutlery on his side of the table. He glanced over at the other couples in the restaurant and then at the clock again.

She arrived with seven minutes to spare. He heard her before he saw her.

"Dr- Draco?"

"Hermione," Draco breathed, his eyes snapping up from a stain on the tablecloth.

He hadn't actually expected her to show. Now that she was here, before him, his mouth seemed to go dry and all the words he'd planned fell flat on his tongue. She stood uneasily in front of him, shifting from foot to foot, her eyes darting about the restaurant uncertainly. He clamoured to his feet and rushed towards her, but his embrace fell short. His arms reaching out and then limply returning to his side. A small blush filled her cheeks. He pulled out her chair for her.

They both sat for a while, perusing the menu and stealing glances at each other. Occasionally they caught eyes. Neither could ever recall who looked away first. In fact, they remained silent for most of the meal, only opening their mouths to order. Hermione's pupils followed Draco's long fingers as they slowly trailed around the rim of his glass. She swallowed nervously as he lifted it to his lips. She blinked as his mouth parted and the red liquid stained the smooth skin there.

She willed herself to ignore the sensation it sent through her body.

She wondered what his mouth tasted like.

Narcissa and Lucius sat in the Malfoy library on a soft, green sofa in front of a warm fire. Narcissa smiled at the feel of the heat warming her bones and glanced over at her husband. His attention was not towards his book, but to the window, a deep frown marring his features. One hand reached up from his book to undo the top button of his shirt and he pulled his collar loose.

"It is summer Narcissa, why you insist on having the fire on all year round is a mystery."

She rolled her eyes, a smirk beginning on the corner of her mouth, "I like to be warm, Lucius. You know this. We can't all be cold hearted."

Her joke died in the air around them. So did the smile on her face. Narcissa pulled Lucius' book away from him and took his hands in hers. His eyes found hers and his thumbs brushed over the soft skin of her hand. He leaned in a pressed a delicate kiss upon her lips.

"Why is Draco doing this to our family? Is he trying to punish us more than we already have been?"

Narcissa's eyes closed in distress, "Lucius,"

"There is nothing special about the mudblood girl. She is not remarkable in anyway. What was wrong with Astoria? She was a fine woman. Beautiful. Intelligent. Thoughtful."

"He did not love her, Lucius."

"Neither did we to start off with." Lucius huffed, "But you were made for me. Astoria and Draco-,"

"Were not made for each other." Narcissa reached out and took her husband's head in her hands. He leaned into her comforting touch, "They would have been miserable. Not all people in arranged marriages are as lucky as we were. Times are changing. The Dark Lord is no more. We are free. And so is Draco. Free to make his own choices."

"It is a mistake, Cissy."

"Maybe so," She replied softly, "But maybe not."

The dinner was going terribly. The starters had come and gone, as had the mains and no words had been spoken between the two. The waiter placed dessert menu's between the two. Hermione asked for a latte. He asked for the same and hoped it tasted good - whatever it was. Her eyes locked with his once more, curiosity burning in them. His flickered down to her lips briefly and he watched, mesmerised, as her tongue darted out to wet them.

"You-,"

"Thank-,"

Hermione grimaced, shaking her head and gesturing with her hand for him to go first. He admired the way her hair bounced around her face as her head moved and then murmured, "No. It's fine. You go."

The words that fell from her lips were not words he was expecting.

"You wanted me dead, Draco."

His eyes widened, his pulse hammered inside his chest, his finger came up to loosen his already undone collar which now felt extremely restrictive again, "What?! I-,"

"Don't deny it now. You made it very clear throughout our time at Hogwarts that my death would be most pleasing. You said it was a shame the basilisk didn't kill me. You wanted me dead-,"

"Well, I suppose, but-,"

"And you are a coward. In the final battle you were shouting to the death eaters that you were still on their side, begging for them not to kill you. Even then you were still a scared little boy-,"

"Now you wait just a second-,"

"And despite all this, you somehow think you love me."

"I do. Love you, that is."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blonde, her fist clenching and unclenching. He wondered if she were trying to restrain herself from hitting him. She wondered if it would feel as relaxing to punch him as it did in their third year. She finally flattened her palm against the table cloth, attempting to stroke the wrinkles from it.

"You don't. Not me. You love the version of me you met in Australia."

"I'm not seeing a difference between you and her."

Hermione snorted, "Please. She hadn't seen a war. She hadn't killed. She had no burdens or worries."

Draco stretched across the table, his fingers entwining with hers. "No, she hadn't. But you have. So have I."

"We have nothing in common, Malfoy."

A slow smirk curled upon the edge of his lips, "Au contraire, Granger, I believe we have a lot in common." He waited for her to respond but when he saw her eyebrows raised in question he simply continued, "We're both intelligent, stubborn, passionate, beautiful individuals who have gone through our fair share of suffering. You fought a dark lord. I lived with that dark lord. You were tortured. I was tortured. We both killed - because we had to. We're causalities of war."

Hermione remained silent for a moment. "You talk about it so casually."

"It was years ago, Granger. There reaches a point where you have to move on."

Her shoulders slumped, "I'm struggling with that."

His finger trailed patterns across the back of her hand, "I know." He murmured.

All Hermione could think about was her dream, his lips upon her hand, on her skin, his tongue on her-,

"Hermione."

Her gaze snapped up to his. Draco pulled his hand away from hers to grab some money from his wallet. He threw the cash down on the table and stood, walking around to her side of the table. He held his hand out to her, an effortless smile gracing his features.

"Come on Hermione," He whispered, "Come here."

Her body hummed with excitement at the familiar words. She stood and gazed down at his out stretched hand. Her fingers itched to be clasped by his. Her heart sang, calling out for his touch. She could feel her blood as it scratched the surface of her skin, coating her cheeks in a soft blush.

She placed her hand in his and her whole being sighed.