AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, this is an update. Surprised? I don't know what happened – this has just flown out of me. Thank you for sticking by, dear readers!

This chapter is larger the previous one – I don't know what's happening – and the second half of this has Ginny's POV. Tell me what you think of it?

Let's hope I can keep up with the frequency. Go ahead!

7 : It's Never Coming Back

When he decides to be honest, Draco knows he'd be a wreck. He doesn't want to be honest, hence. He doesn't want to acknowledge the brashness, the unnecessary haste by which he has thrown the one love of his life, out of his life.

Maybe his mother was as correct as she always is.

Maybe he shouldn't have drawn immediate conclusions from what he'd overheard – maybe he should have given her a chance to explain. Though, explain what? He has no idea.

And this where the contradictions begin.

On one hand, he knows, as properly as he can, what he heard. And saw. And that pierces at his heart like nothing else. He gave her what he never had to anyone before – his honesty, his trust, his wholehearted love.

And, what did she do? She tore out his heart, threw it away, and punched him where she knew it would hurt the most. She pretended to feel for him what he actually did for her. She lied to his face – all the while laughing behind his back, ridiculing his foolishness―his naivety.

He shouldn't have expected any less, anyway. Well, actually, he hadn't expected any less. He'd always – from the very beginning of their relationship – feared what has happened. He'd always been scared of losing her – of not measuring up to what she deserved.

After all, she is a war heroine, and him a war criminal.

He let's out a sigh, hoping to Merlin that the heaviness in his heart lifts – the heaviness that comes with what he thinks on the other hand.

Because both his parents and Pansy think so, Draco has a reason to believe that he should have given her a chance to explain. His mother, as it is, has walked out till further notice. That mere action is a big indication to how poorly she thinks of his handling of this situation.

He has always believed his mother. When she says something isn't right, that damn thing has got to be wrong. And, right in this scenario, it is him.

His thoughts suddenly tumble down, onto Laura.

He groans, reaching forward to take a sip from the crystal decanter of Firewhiskey he is sat with.

Why the hell did he have to use her? That stupid blonde has been missing since yesterday, and he has a very bad feeling about it.

What if she isn't as flattered to be associated with him as he'd supposed she would be? He did catch him glancing his way, at one too many occasions, but that could have meant anything.

Deep down, Draco feels as if he's missing something major about all of the happenings of yesterday and today combined, and that doesn't sit well with him. Something seems out of sorts.

But then, he has lost – sent away, in fact – the only woman that he ever dreamt of spending his life with, and that is meant to leave an impact on his brain's functioning.

Sounds emanating from downstairs catch his attention, and Draco looks, miserably, towards his bed chambers. After the events of last night, he couldn't get himself to enter that place.

Currently, he is lying down in the sitting room, outside, with his back towards the staircase.

"You have a visitor." His father's baritone, surprisingly, does not irritate him.

Draco grunts his assent, without turning to look at the man. "Who?"

"Mate?"

Draco lets out an elongated sigh. Of course he would visit. And, secretly, Draco had hoped that he did, too.

"Blaise," he murmurs, looking over his shoulder at the worried face of his best friend. "Why're you here?"

Blaise scoffs at him, refusing to answer his almost-rhetoric question.

His eyes travel over to his father, who isn't looking at him. He probably notices his gaze, though, because Lucius lets out a sigh. "It's been a day, and your mother has yet to contact me," he states, and Draco winces when he catches the underlying gloom in his voice. "This is the longest that the two of us have gone without contact – except for during the War, of course." His jaw visibly tightens. "And I'm not liking this, one bit."

Draco sighs, again, lowering his gaze to his own, bare feet. "I'll talk to you later, father."

A snort from his father makes him look up again. He flinches back from the sneer plastered over the elder Malfoy's face. "Oh, spare me, son."

In a flourish of flowing, deep grey robes, his father scurries down the stairs.

Draco looks at Blaise, then, tiredly. Blaise eyes widen, and Draco has to cock an eyebrow to break the dark-skinned man's stupor.

"What… happened to your face?" Blaise asks, taking tentative looking steps towards the settee Draco is sprawled over.

Draco shrugs a single shoulder. "Pansy."

Blaise's eyebrows hike up. "Oh. I thought that, y'know, maybe Granger did… Wait. Pansy?" he almost yelps in shock. "She's back here?"

Draco nods. "Met her two days back, at the Ministry."

Recalling that hurts, as well, Draco realizes with a deep sigh. How happy – utterly gleeful – had he been at that time? Little had he known about what he was going to encounter when he reached that damned cafeteria.

"Two days? But this wound looks pretty fresh, man," Blaise comments with a frown.

Draco shuts his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "I went to her place, last night. Was there, till a few hours back."

Blaise' hum carries an undertone of disbelief. "Let me guess – she saw that article and kicked you out?"

Draco chuckles, humorlessly. "No, actually," he mumbles. "She read that article, sat by me with utter patience while I told her everything, and then punched me in the eye." He lifts a hand to trace the swollen, blue skin outlining his left eye. "Then she kicked me out."

"Honestly, Draco?" The bitter stroke to his voice makes Draco want to brace himself for what Blaise is about to say. "I don't blame her."

Draco releases a slow, self depreciating laugh. "Oh, I know that. I know that, alright."

"No, but really. What happened with Granger wasn't actually the major driving force, I'm sure," Blaise offers with a shrug when Draco sits back up to look at him with interest. "It must've been the involvement of that Katrina woman. The―the fact that you replaced Granger that fast – whatever be the reason – must've scratched at her feminist side." He paused to let out a breath, while Draco just wonders if that is how the rest of the world sees it, too – that he has replaced Hermione Granger. "Who is she, anyway? The blondie?"

"Father's assistant at the office," Draco grumbles, ready for the infamous lecture on ethics that Blaise is fond of.

Surprisingly, Blaise merely groans in response, and rests his head back against the high-back sofa he is sat on. "That's a really shitty thing to do, Drake," he mutters, lips barely parted. He blinks, up at the ceiling. "If―if you don't mind me asking… what happened―"

"I do," Draco cuts him, sharply, causing the other wizard to grimace.

"Alright."

They sit in a not-so-comfortable silence for moments, before Blaise lets out a sigh.

Draco looks at him, expectedly. Nothing. "What?" he snaps.

"I'd never imagined there'd be a day―"

"Malfoy! Malfoy!"

The two wizards jumps up, and Draco rushes towards the fireplace in his bedroom, dropping to his knees to respond to the floo-call. His eyes widen when he finds Harry Potter's face looking back at him with a panicked expression on his face.

"What―Potter? I'm―"

Potter cuts off his sputters with a groan through his visibly clenched jaw. "Come through. Right now. I'm at my office, and there's a massive emergency."

Draco blinks, his brain running in wild directions, drawing a sorts if worst scenarios before him. He has almost forgotten about the other person in the room, when Blaise places a hand on his shoulder.

"What's up, Potter?" Blaise asks, leaning past Draco while he sits back and bites down on his lower lip. " Is someone in danger?"

Potter let's out a sigh before he nods. "Hermione."

Everything comes to a standstill – the occurrences of the last two days vanish in the blink of an eye – and Draco is screaming bloody murder as he stands up. "What happened?" he yells, pushing his face into the fireplace.

"I… I can't…" Potter looks as baffled as he's never seen him look before. "Come through, Malfoy. You, too, Zabini."

Potters face disappears, and the next moment is like a flash of lightning. Draco jumps into the still warm fireplace, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering. Honestly, after all that has happened, why is he still so much peeved at the possibility of Hermione being in danger.

The answer is obvious.

But, not dwelling on it, Draco simply accepts the floo powder that Blaise offer him, his hands shaking, and clears his throat. "Auror Potter's Office!"

The usual procedure of getting g sucked into the floo network leaves him queasy for the first time ever in his life. And bes been travelling through flood since he was five.

Coughing out a cluster of smoke, Draco steps out of the fireplace. Potter is looking at him with apprehension written all over his face. "You… okay, there?"

Draco nods, once, before recalling that he's still sporting a fabulously blackened eye that he had refused to glamour away. Well. That, and his feet his bare. He probably looks like a homeless raccoon.

"I'm fine. What―what is it?" he asks, absentmindedly patting his trouser to look for his wand. His molars grind together when he realizes that he's left it back – and he has no idea where.

The floo whooshes behind him, and before Draco can look up, Blaise is already speaking.

"Looking for this?"

His redwood wand with its Dragon Heartstring core looks weird in Blaise's hand. Nevertheless, nodding gratefully, Draco extracts it.

While Potter returns to his enormous desk and gets down to look for something, Draco casts a glamour charm on his face, and, picking up a broken quill off the couch sitting next to him, transfigures a pair of Muggle loafers for himself.

"This."

Draco looks up to find Blaise frowning at the parchment that Potter holds in his hand. The expressions on the Auror's face are tensed, while his best mate just looks utterly confused.

"What's this, Potter? A page off Tom Riddle's diary?" Blaise asks around a snarl, visibly frustrated.

Draco clicks his tongue, moving forward to take the letter from Potter's hand. "That was blank, in reality, Blaise. This is… a letter!" he ends on a gasp when he notices Hermione's name written in a very familiar penmanship. "Fuck!" he curses, stumbling back and dropping on the couch as he reads.

In his hindsight, he can make out Potter trying to explain something to a very worked up Blaise. But Draco cannot be bothered by that. He is reading a threat.

Air is knocked out of his lungs, when he realizes that he has made, not one, but two grand mistakes.

Draco let out a sigh. In retrospect, it was pretty stupid what he was doing, right now. But then, he was too busy hiding his face from people looking his way, to worry about thinking retrospectively.

He's waiting, in the Atrium down the corridor that Granger's office is located in, next to a fireplace that her assistant told him was what she used to leave when she worked late.

And she was working late, tonight.

It was already past seven, and Draco's patient was slowly draining from the wait of over two hours.

Suddenly, there was commotion in the corridor he stood next to, and―

Hermione Granger bumped into him, catching him unawares for a moment, before he composed himself and stepped back.

"Malf―Malfoy?" she breathed out, her eyes wide and mouth agape.

Draco cleared his throat and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers to give her a suave, laid back impression of him. Not that she didn't have one too many impressions of him already – most of them being unpleasant, too.

"A word?" he asked, not bothering with formalities. It hadn't been on a nice note, anyway, when they last met.

Her expressions changed, then, morphing into rage from her earlier surprise. "No."

Draco stood gaping while she brushed past him to reach the fireplace.

"Granger! Granger!" He dashed after her, grabbing her by her upper arm to spin her around.

Her mouth was open, probably in incredulity, and eyes were blazing with obvious, untamed fury. "Hand off. Right now, Malfoy!"

Flinching away, Draco took a step back, raising his palms up in a defensive stance. "Alright. No harm done – I'm not coming near you." Just as she was about to turn back, again, he spoke. "I want to apologize, Granger. Please."

She froze mid-step. Draco internally grimaced. Begging a Muggle-born to listen to his apology? His ancestors must be having a gala time in their graves.

"What did you say?" she asked, cautiously, visibly calming down.

"I… I was an arse, that day. In father's library. I said stuff that I shouldn't have," he muttered, looking away when her eyebrows hiked up, an expression of disbelief passing her face. "It was slightly… no, very inappropriate."

Granger was assessing him through narrowed eyes when Draco finally looked back at her. "You mean that?" she asked in a low voice.

Draco nodded, vigorously.

She shrugged, then. "Great. Apology accepted."

Draco jumped towards her and stepped between the fireplace and the small brunette, when Granger tried to turn away again. With a gasp, she took a step back.

"So… would you, you know, take me back into the meetings?" he asked her, lower lip pressed between his teeth.

Granger outright scoffed at him. "Oh, pardon me, Malfoy! Do you know a secret?" she asked in a hiss. He was slightly nervous by her fierceness, but didn't let it show. "Your mum – Narcissa requested me to do this for your dad."

Draco blinked. "Is… that supposed to be a secret? Because I already knew it."

She faltered for a moment, and Draco picked up that she had no clue about his knowledge. Silly bint. "And she did so through Andromeda," she continued, then. "So, the only reason why I agreed to help, was Andromeda's pleading face and her request that she didn't want her dear sister's family falling to streets."

Draco shuddered at her words. But, however much might that thought scare him, Draco was well aware that it was the truth. Their investors had all withdrawn, and there wasn't a single Knut in the name of funds for Felicis Potions in the Gringotts locker of the company's name.

"So. It's a favor I'm doing to you, Draco," Granger said after a moment. Her eyes were fixed upon some place over his shoulder. "Don't push your luck." She looked at him, then. Draco hung his head. "By the way," she said again as she rounded him to step into the fireplace, "you shouldn't be offended. I was just coming clean."

Draco's fists clenched at his sides when he noticed her smug smirk and the victorious gleam in her eyes. "While we're on the topic of coming clean," he grit out through his teeth, turning around to face her, once more, "let me share a secret, too." She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shot back – what he presumed was – a venomous smirk. "I'm crazily attracted to you."

She reared back, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Draco relished in her horror-stricken reaction, even when it did send a pang of hurt in him. Did she really still loathe him?

"I'm attracted to your body. Fucking crazy about all of your luscious curves," he stated, throatily, letting his eyes trace the breasts that he'd spent the previous months fantasizing about, down to her petite waist – everything elegantly held in a fitted pencil skirt and a chiffon shirt. Her Ministry robes did little to hide her from his scrutiny, despite her recoiling further into the fireplace. "And your awfully bright brain, as well."

Well, that was a lie. He was exactly 'attracted' to her brain, even though he did respect her intelligence.

"I…" she breathed out, her chest heaving with her quickened breathing. "It's―it's inappropriate, Malfoy! Just… just leave me be, you," she muttered, ducking her head, and Draco knew that at least some of his attraction was mutual.

With a self-satisfied smirk, he watched as she flooed off to her flat in Diagon Alley. "'Til the next time, Granger."

Ginny Weasley is speeding down to her boyfriend's office. No logical explanations, no reasoning – she's simply worried about Hermione. And, honestly, she isn't even completely certain about what she is going to say to Harry, once she gets to him.

Maybe she'll ask him to accompany her to Hermione's department? He's a Ministry employee, he has access to all the places after closing, too.

Sighing, she shakes her head as she takes the final turn for the corridor that leads to Harry's office. Then she stops short at the voices of agitated conversation emerging from the room, echoing about the hallway.

One of them, she recognizes as Harry's; the other is quite foreign.

"...don't know what it is, but it isn't blank, Zabini."

Harry has Blaise Zabini in his office, Ginny concludes with a nod. Never breaking her pace, she strains her ears.

"But – didn't you say Granger… Merlin, Potter, Granger would've checked it for spells!"

Hermione's name has Ginny's heart freezing in her chest. What the hell has happened?

She cannot make out the muttered response by Harry, but she breaks into a run.

As it is, Zabini's presence isn't exactly a comfort. The guy works at Magical Sports Equipment Department, and there isn't a way Harry would have had any professional need of him. That means this is personal – and that means that this is related to Malfoy.

Malfoy.

Oh, how she wants to wring the bastard's neck! Quite honestly, Ginny cannot recall the last time she'd felt this furious on a person. Malfoy, in all his blonde, picture-perfect glory, has done to Hermione what Ron couldn't. She shouldn't be comparing the two of them, Ginny is aware, but abiding by it becomes difficult when one of them is her own brother.

Ginny recalls the droopy, upset face Hermione had sported for about a week, before she'd collected her bearings and dived headfirst into a fresh start. Her relationship with Ron had, then, become, "an unfortunate experiment that didn't work."

To her utter dismay – even though it has merely been two days since the devastating incident – Ginny cannot see the recollection and fresh start bits happening to Hermione, anytime soon, this time round.

She pushes the door open as soon as it is in her hand's range. "What… Harry, I…" she chokes out between heaves, limping into the small place where her boyfriend stands with a grim look on his face.

The look lifts when he meets her eyes, though, and blatant concern takes over. "Ginny? What the―why are you here?" he almost screams at her, his voice oddly high-pitched as his defeated stance changes and he takes a step towards her.

Ginny is just about to respond, when her eyes fall upon the one thing – person? – that she'd dreaded coming across.

Malfoy is slumped over the small couch kept next to the fireplace in Harry's office, and Ginny cannot quite decipher the meaning of what she is seeing. "What is he doing here?" she spits out, mouth twisted in distaste as she gives the blond's haggard state a once over.

She chooses to overlook that he seems to not have eaten, drank, or slept in the entirety of today and yesterday. Well, maybe not drank. The bags under his eyes indicate just how much time he has spent in drinking – maybe not a very advisable drink, and maybe he took out time for that off his sleeping hours, too.

"He's, um, out," comes a stuttered explanation from behind her, and that is when she notices how much more worried than Harry does Blaise Zabini look. "There was, uh… Potter, you tell her."

She immediately stiffens. "I heard you talking about Hermione. What's wrong?"

Harry frowns at her. "Yes, we were… But, before that… what do you know, Gin?" He takes a step towards her, extending a hand for her to take. "You came in pretty worked up."

Ginny swallows thickly even as she accepts his hand and walks up to Harry. "Nothing much, really, just… She was going to visit her office," she mutters her gaze still locked on Malfoy's still form. Harry's breath catches, next to her, and Ginny turns to frown at him. "What has happened?"

"What the hell did Granger want to do at her office at closing time?"

"She had to collect some files," she absentmindedly responds to Zabini's question, her eyes still fixed on her boyfriend. "Harry." He looks at her. "Is she safe?"

Harry pulls his lower lip between his teeth, and exhales shakily, his breath washing over her forehead. "I… I don't know, Gin."

A gasp tumbles out of her mouth and she takes a horrified step away from him. "What?" she yelps, clasping a hand on her clammy forehead as she assesses the two wizards before her.

Zabini seems to be having a muffled, cursing spree, his eyes shut. She looks back at her wizard. Harry looks so tense, so shaken, that she has to take a step closer to him in a comforting fashion.

"What has happened, Harry?" she whispers, keeping a palm, flat, over his upper arm, attempting to ease him down, even though her own heart is threatening to jump out of her chest from all the awful scenarios her brain is making up.

Harry lets out a sigh, and rubs his eyes, huffs fingers sliding under the glasses that have ridden down his nose. Pushing them back up, he looks at her with a tired face. "She sent me a―a―a parchment, today, and – and we're not sure what it means, actually, because―"

She snatches the piece of parchment kept on Harry's desk before he can complete. Her breath hitches. "But, it's―"

"―because it's blank," Harry finishes with a pointed look.

Except for a tiny scrawl on the top, right corner, in Hermione's beautiful penmanship, the entire sheet is blank.

Harry – Check this out, and try to find more. Secure Draco, if need be.

– H.

Deflated, Ginny desperately scans the piece of yellow parchment, turns it over, and finally reaches for her wand, intending to cast detection spells on it.

"No use," Zabini mumbles from his perch at the opposite edge of Harry's desk. "It has been charmed to not be visible to anyone, but Granger. And Draco."

Ginny's eyes snap to Harry's, mouth falling open. "What?" she gasps. Receiving nothing from him, she twists in place to look at the still unconscious ex-Slytherin. "He's―oh, Godric, why aren't the two of you waking him up?" she cries out, fisting a hand in her straight, red locks.

Before she can gather herself enough to grip her wand and point it at Malfoy, Harry's hand covers hers and he pulls her closer to himself. "He's already read it, Gin," he murmurs, his loving tone soothing her nerves in that incomprehensible way that it always does. "He panicked after he did, though. We had to give him a dose of Calming Draught."

She leans into him, letting her body go lax, and Harry pulls her firmly to his side. Taking a deep breath, she shuts her eyes when Harry's familiar citric scents, mixed with the mild, musky smell that is uniquely his, invades her senses. Basking in the familiar comfort, she forces her coiled up mind to ease down.

The peace is distributed, though, when the door opens, again, and a jovially grinning Ronald Weasley enters. His face immediately drops. "What's…" He trails off, and Ginny takes a step away from Harry when her brother's gaze slides over them, to finally rest on Zabini. "You guys having a reunion, or what?"

Harry sighs. "There's been an incident, Ron."

Ron frowns, stepping in and shutting the door after him. "Has it?"

Zabini walks up to the front of the room. "Granger sent Potter a piece of parchment that can only be read by her and Draco." Ron's eyes slide over to Malfoy, then, and his eyebrows hike comically high up on his forehead. "And he's under the influence of a Calming Draught that would be getting to work in some time."

"I get that he's already read that, um… parchment?" Ron hedges, walking up to the couch and settling down next to Malfoy's sprawled form.

While Zabini explains the details, Ginny realizes that both her boyfriend and her brother are behaving very casually around Malfoy. And, even if she hadn't been there for Hermione, today, she wouldn't have been able to look at the guy's face who has plundered her life as bad as Malfoy has, without at least punching him in the nose. That leaves her with one conclusion: Ron and Harry have absolutely no idea about what has happened between him and Hermione.

She takes a breath. Instead of wondering about how the two of them have missed the grand headlines that had been plastered all over the Daily Prophet, today, Ginny decides to consider the two choices she has before her. Would it be wise to keep shut and let this grave matter at hands proceed the way it is, or would it be wiser to tell Harry about Malfoy's shite actions and let him hex the blond to death.

However much the second choice seem tempting, she knows what logically correct action would be. Hermione's safety comes first, and Malfoy seems to be playing a crucial role in the process of ensuring that.

"Ginny?"

Ginny blinks, looking up to find her brother looking at her with a harsh, and yet desperate gaze.

"What?" she whispers, shakily.

"There is a possibility that Hermione's here, in the building, right now?"

Ginny blinks. "Uh, she was about to come here, so… Maybe?" Honestly, Ginny doesn't know. She had been in a hurry to leave when Ginny left Hermione's place. But, this piece of parchment is something that could mean anything.

Ron's growl of frustration is too loud in the office. Ginny grimaces. "Are you guys actually not considering visiting her office once?" he yells out, his wide eyes eying Harry in incredulity. "What's wrong with you?"

With the look of flustered shock on his face, Ginny can tell that Harry is wondering the same.

"Is someone gonna accompany me, or am I on my own?" Ron asks over his shoulder as he walks up to the door.

Zabini clears his throat. "You deal with him, Potter," he states, jerking a thumb in Malfoy's direction. "I'll come with you, Weasley," he tells Ron, then, and the two of them exchange nods before stepping out of the office.

In the resultant quiet, Ginny lets out a breath and allows Harry to hug her close, again.

They stay like that for moments before Harry speaks. "That isn't the worst idea, actually."

"Checking the office?" She breathes out, deeply. "I'm too confused to function properly, right now. Sorry, Harry."

Harry clicks his tongue. She can feel him shake his head, but he doesn't speak.

"How did you figure out about the charm?" she asks, after a moment.

She feels him shrug. "I'm an Auror." He hums, thoughtfully. "Hermione's words said that this was something important. But – it was blank. I immediately thought of a jinx." He tagged l takes a breath. "I cast a detection charm on it, and it detected magical interference. My natural doubts went to this being charmed to allow selective viewing of its contents. And because her words were visible, having been written by a Muggle pencil, I gathered that the ink was jinxed and not the parchment." He pauses for a moment. "And by the clue she wrote, I figured that Malfoy might be of use in unveiling this."

Ginny snuggles closer to him, gritting her teeth to keep a check on her irritation at the mention of Malfoy. "What do we do?" she asks, instead.

"We wait for him to wake up. That is what'll tell us what this is all about, after all." Harry sounds resigned.

"And when is he going to wake up?" she mumbles into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist when he rakes a hand through her hair.

"Anytime, now. The potion starts working after ten minutes, at most. It's been more than."

Thoughts?

xo, Aishwarya!