Authors Note: Woe, another chapter done. As ever refer to the prologue for the disclaimer, and thanks to my betas for making this readable. Please keep the reviews coming in to let me know what you think. I found this chapter especially difficult to write, so would really like to know what you all thought of it.

Chapter Three

Hermione looked over the rim of the Journal of Healing and Medi-wizardry she was trying to read, at the small figure of her daughter sprawled on a cushion in front of the television. Aurora's eyes were glued to the screen on which the Shiny Show was in full swing and she was hugging Freddie, her favourite teddy bear, while absentmindedly chewing one of its ears. One fluffy slipper clad foot was wiggling in time to the music, and Hermione smiled indulgently.

She yawned and getting up, stretched her weary muscles; it had been a long day and she was glad to be home. Thursdays, she reflected, were the most exhausting day of the week, what with working at the outpatient clinic all day, followed by the usual departmental meeting in which at least one person would complain about another. It was no wonder that she was always glad to reach the peace of her flat by the day's end. Human interactions, she mused, were strange and very complex things, indeed.

With relief, Hermione saw that the Shiny Show was coming to an end; the characters were waving good-bye, and Aurora was stretching contentedly.

"Bed time," Hermione smiled, stooping and picking Aurora up, "come on, you've been up long enough!"

These words were met with a yawn from Aurora, who smiled sleepily and said, "I wish they put the Shiny Show on all the time, it's my favouwite, you know. Mummy, why don't they put it on more?"

"Because," Hermione answered, "not everyone likes the Shiny Show as much as you do. So to make it fair, they put a bit of everything on."

Pouting, Aurora sighed; clearly this was not a good enough reason, and she persisted, "But why doesn't everyone like it – I do, so why don't other people?"

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged, not feeling up to one of Aurora's lengthy questioning sessions. Aurora didn't respond, but lay her head on her mother's shoulder; clearly, the reasoning of grown-ups was beyond her.

Carrying a drowsy Aurora into her room, Hermione was just about to tuck her into bed, when the sound of the doorbell made them both jump. Aurora's eyes flew open and she stared wildly round, blinking in the dim light of the bedroom.

Hermione scowled, and pulling the duvet over a protesting Aurora, turned and went quickly from the room, frowning. Casting a revealing charm on the front door, she saw Ron lounging against the wall of the hallway, one foot tapping impatiently as he made to raise his hand once more to ring the bell. Before he could do so however, Hermione had flung open the door and was smiling in greeting.

"Blimey Hermione, it took you long enough to answer," Ron grumbled as he entered the quiet flat.

"Keep your voice down," Hermione hissed, as she shut and warded the door, "if Aurora hears you, she'll never go to sleep. Go into the sitting room – I'll be with you in a bit." She went back into Aurora's room to see that a very tired Aurora had fallen asleep. Hermione's heart contracted with love, as she looked down at the sleeping figure of her daughter, and bending down, she straightened the duvet and kissed the sleeping child. As quietly as she could, she left the room leaving the door ajar.

Entering the sitting room, she saw that Ron had wasted no time in making himself comfortable. He was stretched out on the sofa, his hands locked behind his head, grinning engagingly.

"The brat asleep?" he asked, as he turned to face Hermione.

"Ron," she huffed indignantly, "my Aurora isn't a 'brat' and I'll thank you for not calling her one. You, on the other hand," she teased, "are a poster child for true brats everywhere."

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Hermione did not have to ask what was on his mind – his expression said it all. Sighing dramatically, she went to the kitchen and in less than five minutes was back with a plate full of Spaghetti Bolognese, which she handed to Ron on a tray. Ron sat up with a grin at her reappearance.

"Hope this is fine," Hermione handed him the tray before sitting down, "It's this evening's leftovers – I had a feeling you'd drop by, so made extra."

A grunt was all the reply she got, and for a while there was no sound apart from the chink of Ron's knife and fork as he demolished the food. Finally, he put his cutlery down and lay back with a satisfied groan. Shaking her head at his laziness, Hermione sent the crockery to the kitchen sink with a casual flick of her wand.

"So," Ron began, stretching his long length out on the sofa, "how're you holding up?"

Hermione gave him a wan smile and shrugged, "To be honest, I just want to get it over with, " she replied, "I mean all this waiting's really getting to me – I've never been patient like that," she shook her head, "Anyway, by this time tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"What time's the party?"

"Seven. It's nothing big, just a small affair to say farewell to Edward and introduce Malfoy to the hospital staff."

Ron raked a hand through his hair and scowled at the ceiling, "Creep!" he muttered, "Git!" Shaking his head, he carried on, "I still can't believe Hanwell's wants him to take over the financial side of things – I mean, how they can trust him? That's what I'd like to know."

Hermione had to smile at the indignant expression marring his face, "But Ron that's just it," she responded, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, "Malfoy's a whiz with numbers, and I bet that's why Harold's over the moon that Malfoy's agreed to take over the position of Finance Director. Harold didn't even want to consider any one else."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Ron huffed, "I'm sure that there're loads of people out there who're good with numbers! What's the big deal about hiring Malfoy?"

There was a pause in which Hermione studied the pattern on the curtains. With a sigh, she explained, "The thing is, Edward – the director who's about to retire – well, he's… he's just not that good with finances. Between you and me, the hospital's finances are in a bit of a mess because of him. I think Harold's hoping that Malfoy'll be able to sort it all out with minimum fuss."

This was met with a snort from Ron, "So why didn't they just get rid of this Edward guy if he's so crap when they found out? Surely that would've been the sensible thing to do – that way, there wouldn't have been all this worry about the hospital's finances being in chaos and stuff, and that Crapwit would have nothing to do with it."

Hermione didn't answer, but slumping in her chair, ran a hand through her hair. "I really don't know, Ron. Edward is…" she struggled to find the right words, "Edward's Edward, I guess, and by the time Harold discovered the state of our financial situation, well, it was too late for the board to do anything simple about it," she spoke through gritted teeth.

Ron gazed thoughtfully at her for a moment and then gently he said, "Hermione, I'm sorry. I know rehashing the point isn't making it easy for you, but I'm just… well, let's just say that I don't like the way things are going, that's all. I mean if Malfoy ever found out about…" his eyes flicked towards the door into the hall as he trailed off.

"That's kept me awake for the last few nights," Hermione admitted, looking towards the hall as well, "but look at it this way Ron," she turned back to her red haired friend, "I'll have to see him eight times a year at most, and even then it'll always be in the company of others. As long as I keep on my guard, I think things should be ok."

Ron did not look convinced, "I'm just concern about how you'll feel when you see him, Hermione. It'll bring all those memories back," he persisted, "and that's what I'm worried about."

Hermione got up and went over to the window. Looking out into the darkness, she thought about how best to explain the jumble of feelings and emotions going through her mind to Ron. She wasn't sure how she actually felt about those memories herself. "That's just it Ron," she picked her words carefully, "I don't think I'd be reminded of… that. He wasn't… he wasn't brutal to me in the least. My memory of it… "She trailed off, shrugging and shaking her head. "My memory of it wasn't as nasty as I thought it was – in fact it was well…."

Behind her, Ron made a gagging noise and then spluttered, "Please Hermione I've just eaten – spare me the details will you?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she snapped, wheeling to face him, "be a little more mature about this, will you? If anyone has a reason to complain, it's me! Stop behaving as though you're the injured party here!" Sighing and rubbing her temples with her fingers, she sat down next to Ron. In a softer tone, she added, "I came to terms with what happened a couple of years back. It was Harry's idea actually. He suggested I use a pensive to find out what really happened that night. Harry said that even though my conscious mind can't remember what happened or how it happened, my sub-conscious mind would. As you're well aware, the imperious curse dulls the conscious mind, but strength of character – the sub-conscious – has the ability to override the imperious curse, and that's what allows you to fight it off."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know that," he said, sitting up and swinging his long legs to the floor,"it's the theory they taught us during our second year of Auror training, but—"

"Well, Harry thought my sub-conscious would have the memory of what happened, so if I wanted to find out, it would mean watching it in his pensive. He let me borrow it."

"Don't tell me you went through with it?" asked a disbelieving Ron, "Damn it, Hermione! Most people'd do anything they can to forget about stuff like that, but you—"

"Everyone's different, Ron!" she answered in frustration. Taking a deep breath to control the anger licking at her, she bit her lower lip and turned to her silenced friend.

"Ron," she spoke, eyes closed, attempting to be as calm as possible, "I agree with you that some people would do all they can to forget about the very traumatic events in their lives. But the truth is," she gazed unblinkingly at Ron's impassive face, "you can never forget it. No one can, it's impossible. No matter what I do, I'll always bear this… this violation in my memory. If I wanted to forget, if I were intent on forgetting, I wouldn't have had Aurora. And she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. But she'll always be a reminder of what's happened. Yet she's my life, Ron, and my main reason for living."

There was a silence and the sound of the wall clock ticking away the seconds, reverberated around the room. Then Ron sighed and said in a quiet voice, "I know, 'Mione." Grasping her hand in a show of support, he added, "I'm sorry about blowing up earlier." He released her hand, shaking his head, "but to relive those memories of him."

"I know what you mean. But Harry was right – it helped me come to terms with what happened, and I feel much calmer about seeing him again." Hermione sighed, "But you know, the whole thing was strange, he—"

Ron cut her off, not at all comfortable with the direction she seemed to be going, especially the details of what had happened between her and Draco Malfoy. Springing up from the sofa, he grabbed his cloak and said hastily, looking at his watch, "Um… will you look at the time? I've got to go. Hermione, I'm glad that you're taking things better than I thought. Um... well, I've got to make an early start tomorrow," he blushed.

"Of course." She tryed not to smile at his obvious agitation, "thanks for coming round anyway."

XoXoXoXo

It was now seven-thirty and Hermione knew she could delay the inevitable no longer. The office and surrounding corridors were quiet as she checked her appearance in her hand mirror – everyone must be at the party. She shuddered and wrapped her arms tightly about her body. If she prevaricated any longer she knew that Harold would send someone to find her, and drawing attention to herself was the very last thing she wanted to do right now.

Nervously running her hands down the simple silk dress she had donned, Hermione turned and made her slow way to the door of her office. 'Better to get it over with,' she thought, as she walked down the quiet corridor towards the room in which the informal gathering was being held. She was still nervous despite her assurances to Ron last night, but she knew that her nerves were more for Aurora, than for herself. She had faced her own ghosts two years ago, but Aurora was a helpless child who had no way of defending herself if her father were to make things difficult.

Hermione quickened her pace so as to stop herself dwelling on her fears, and after five minutes of brisk walking, reached the huge room that had once been a ballroom. It was now used as an emergency ward if more beds were needed urgently, as well as the venue for Christmas parties and other festive occasions.

Pushing open one of the heavy doors to the large room, Hermione sidled in, and was immediately engulfed by the chatter within. People were standing round the huge room in laughing groups, most holding brimming glasses of wine. Hermione pressed herself against the wall and had to marvel of the beauty of the room in which she now stood. A chandelier twinkled down on the occupants, while a warm breeze drifted in through the partially open French windows. The floor was made of white marble and reflected the light given off by the chandelier. Soft music could be heard from one end of the huge room and craning her neck, Hermione saw a trio consisting of a violinist, flutist, and pianist, had been set up to one side of the huge windows. They were playing folk music – Edward's favourite. The atmosphere was relaxed as everyone did their best to be sociable.

Glancing round the room, Hermione was relieved to see that none of the directors was in sight – she could remain in the shadows for a little longer.

Taking a glass of wine from a table that was groaning under the weight of food and drink, she made her solitary way over to a corner and stood, screened from view by a potted plant almost as tall as herself. Here, she could observe what was going on without being noticed. She leaned back, as a semblance of contentment stole through her. Her mind wandered to her daughter, and she wondered what Aurora was doing right now. Hermione's parents had offered to baby-sit that night, so no doubt all three would be enjoying a lively game of hide and seek, or taking part in a treasure hunt that Hermione's father had arranged earlier that day.

The sound of a voice in her ear, made Hermione jump. She nearly spilled her wine as she wheeled round to face a smiling Isabel Winterton watching her.

'Of all the directors, why did it have to be her?' Hermione groaned inwardly.

From Hermione's first day as director of Magic and Muggle Integration, Isabel had gone out of her way to make Hermione's life difficult. She had been the only director to oppose Hermione's appointment to the board, but Hermione knew it had nothing to do with her age as Isabel had claimed. Isabel had wanted one of her own healers – a middle-aged woman who was a close friend of hers, to get the appointment and had been resentful when Hermione had got it instead.

"Isabel," Hermione gasped, "you startled me."

"Clearly," drawled the other woman smirking. "Tell me," she raised an elegant eyebrow, "what on Earth are you doing, hiding behind a potted plant? One would think you didn't want to be noticed."

"Was I hiding?" Hermione scoffed, trying not to look too defensive.

"Oh come now, Hermione, you're no shrinking violet – why go to all the effort to look inconspicuous? You're not trying to avoid someone here, are you?" Isabel smiled slyly.

"Of course not," Hermione tried looking nonchalant, but inwardly cursing the blush that was creeping up her face. "I just felt a bit tired – I had a long day seeing patients, and I just felt the onset of a migraine. You know how it is," she shrugged.

"Well," continued Isabel, smiling sweetly, clearly seeing through Hermione's thinly veiled lies, "everyone's been wondering where you were. Dear Edward was quite upset that you hadn't managed to make the party on time."

As she had meant it to, Isabel's barb hit home, and Hermione felt guilt sweep over her in a tidal wave. She had been so wrapped up in her own worries that she had given no thought to the kindly and well-meaning Finance Director who was retiring today. Edward had always gone out of his way to be especially kind to the muggleborn witch when she had first started working at the hospital. Furthermore, he had always been Hermione's staunchest ally against Isabel during board meetings, and she had forgotten all about Edward's feelings in favour of her useless worries about meeting Draco Malfoy.

Returning Isabel's smile with a saccharine one of her own, she countered, "It really couldn't be helped. This afternoon's clinic session ran over time, after which I had to rush home to freshen up. Then, what with one thing after another, I found myself running late. I was merely stopping for a breather here when you found me. Knowing Edward as well as I do, I'm sure he'll understand when I explain my tardiness."

Hermione saw to her satisfaction that Isabel's smile had vanished, to be replaced with a disapproving look. "I see," she drawled, "well, I'm sure you're more than ready to meet Edward now. What are you waiting for?"

Swallowing her resentment at the patronising tone in Isabel's voice, Hermione nodded and feeling her heart sink, glanced around for Edward's balding head amidst the throng of healers.

Isabel however, had not finished speaking, and said in what sounded like triumph, "He's just over there – by the fireplace."

Nodding her thanks, Hermione made her way through the crowd of people to the other side of the room. Edward was indeed standing by the fireplace, talking to a tall blond haired figure Hermione had no trouble recognising.

Quickly, she stepped behind a group of people to compose herself – now she knew why Isabel had been looking like the cat that got the cream when she told Hermione of Edward's whereabouts. The older witch must have remembered that Hermione had not been very pleased when Harold Pinfold announced that Draco Malfoy would be filling the position of Finance Director, and had obviously hoped to unsettle her. Well, Hermione would not give her the satisfaction.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and willed her heart to beat at its normal rate rather than continue the drum roll it had set up in the last few seconds. Then pinning a genuine smile on her face, she walked over to Edward, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The old man broke off what he was saying and turned to face Hermione, a smile spreading across his wrinkled face. Behind him, Hermione saw that Draco Malfoy too had turned, and was now staring at her, surprise written clearly over his face. He had changed in the five years since she had last seen him; there were now lines around his eyes and mouth, and he seemed thinner. Also his hair was longer and a lock fell over his forehead into his left eye. He was still undeniably good-looking and now held himself with an air of authority he had not possessed before. Hermione noticed that quite a few of the women present were eyeing him with covert interest.

"Hermione," Edward cried on seeing her, "I was wondering where you were – is everything ok?" Not giving her a chance to answer, he went on, "Ah yes, Draco, here is the last of the directors I was telling you about. May I introduce you to Hermione Granger? Hermione is our director of Magical and Muggle Integration, and she's very good at her job."

Edward beamed at the two young people. Draco, taking the cue, stepped forward with a smile that made Hermione wary.

"Well, well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise Hermione – we meet again." Then before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco put his arms round her and kissed her cheek, allowing his lips to linger longer than was necessary on her flaming skin.

Gasping with surprise, and not a little shock, Hermione pushed him away, extricating herself as swiftly as possible. Her face, she knew, was now the exact same colour as a ripe tomato.

"Wonderful," beamed a delighted Edward, "Oh I am so glad you two get on so well. I must say I was a little worried from what Hermione said earlier. I gathered you weren't the best of friends."

Hermione opened her mouth to agree with this statement, but Draco beat her to it. "Oh that's not quite true. Although I must say that we had… shall we say a history?" he winked meaningfully at Edward. "Unfortunately, we didn't part on the best of terms, and perhaps for this reason, Hermione might have felt uncomfortable about me joining Hanwell's board of directors." He smiled indulgently at Hermione, as he slid an arm round her shoulders, effectively anchoring her against his side.

Hermione was seething inside and tried to politely remove herself from Draco's arm, but he merely tightened it, pulling her even closer to him.

"Well," said Edward, who was unaware of Hermione's struggles, and smiling broadly, "your working together at Hanwell's will be the perfect opportunity for you to rectify our Hermione's feelings. Hermione's a lovely girl, and between you and me," he bent nearer the younger wizard sotto voce, "quite an excellent catch!"

Hermione had to choke back a cry of rage; they were talking about her as though she were some chattel with no feelings of her own! Opening her mouth, she made to speak, but seeing her indignant expression, Draco quickly broke in, "That she is, Edward – I couldn't agree more," he replied silkily, pressing himself against the struggling witch, "Hermione and I have a lot to catch up on – it's just such a lovely surprise to see her tonight," he glanced at the woman at his side. "I wasn't even aware she'd changed hospitals! The last I knew, she was working at St Mungo's. Clearly I've been away too long."

"I don't think—"Hermione began, but once again Draco overrode her, "And can you believe it, Edward? Hermione and I haven't seen each other since I went to America – over five years ago!"

"Oh, I am pleased," said Edward. Hermione saw with a pang that there were tears glistening in his eyes, "this has really made my evening – seeing the two of you reunited." Edward looked from Hermione to Draco and he added, "Excellent. Well, I don't want to play gooseberry in your reunion. I'll leave you two to catch up now," he teased, "and I'll speak to you later."

He ambled off with a wide smile plastered over his face. Hermione turned to face Draco; hate seem to be pouring from every pore of her body and she glared at him before saying through gritted teeth, "How dare you…how dare you humiliate me in this way you piece of …you venomous piece of trash!" She wrenched herself away from him as she spoke. They were standing in a small alcove and so had some privacy. "Not only that," she went on, "you deliberately lied to someone who's done his best to make you feel welcome – you really are a class-A shit!"

He leaned back smiling at her, his eyes skimming her body as though the dress covering it was not there. Then he said in a voice equally as soft as Hermione's had been, "I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Hermione! You don't want to upset Edward now do you? It assured the old boy greatly to see us on such good terms. Why ruin his retirement party by throwing a tantrum?"

Almost spitting with rage, she glared at the aristocratic face of the man standing before her. She knew that if she wanted answers from him, she would have to calm down, oh but she was so angry!

Taking several deep breaths to bring her temper under control, she looked up into the cool grey eyes she knew so well, but in another face. She couldn't help herself – her eyes started picking out Draco's features comparing them to those of her daughter, and even as she berated herself, she noticed that both Aurora and Draco had the exact shaped eyes with the exact shade of grey. Furthermore, it appeared that Aurora had also inherited Draco's pale skin and facial bone structure.

"I know it's been a long time since last you saw me," Draco's drawling voice broke through her intense perusal of his face, "but is there really any need to ravish me like this?"

Hermione swiftly pulled her gaze away from his face, the telltale colour suffusing her cheeks. "Don't flatter yourself," she spat, "I was simply comparing your features to those of a ferret," she nodded her head to give her next words emphasis and said in a deliberately casual voice, "and yes, you're remarkably similar – same pointed nose and face. Truly remarkable, the resemblance… yes indeed!"

She saw to her satisfaction her jibe had worked, for his smile vanished, replaced by a sneer very similar to Aurora's when angered.

In a very quiet voice, he clipped, "I'd watch my mouth if I were you Hermione! It may have escaped your notice, but I could make your life pretty miserable if I so chose – imagine where you'd be if the amount of money allocated to the department of Surgical Magic was halved!"

Hermione felt the blood leave her face. He couldn't do that, he just couldn't! But a small and truthful voice in the back of her head now spoke up, 'Yes, he can and you know it! As Finance Director, he can do practically what he likes with regard to allocating money. A few lies about your inability to manage your department could even mean you loosing the positions of both head of department, as well as the directorship. Besides Harold, he will be the most powerful person in the hospital.'

Hermione didn't mind insults directed at her – this tolerance was a must if you were a Gryffindor, a muggle-born, and one of Harry Potter's best friends. This ensured that by the time she had graduated from Hogwartss she was almost immune to any personal insults directed at her. What she did mind however, were insults directed either at someone she loved, or at her work – that she could not bear. There were now two courses open to her; apologise or act as though she had not heard his threat and change the subject.

After a moment, she opted for the strategy least likely to dent her own pride and asked, "Why Malfoy? Why give Edward hints about us meaning more to each other than acquaintances or even friends? What was the point of it all?"

Draco did not answer her question immediately. He seemed to study her without speaking. Then he said, changing the subject, "There's something different about you that I can't quite put my finger on. You've changed, but I can't tell how. You still look the same – well maybe a few more lines round the eyes," the corner of his lips lifted, "but that's to be expected. No, it's something much deeper than your physical appearance, but what is it that's different?" he tilted his head, puzzled, "That's for the life of me what I can't fathom."

Hermione was well aware of the change he was trying to explain – it was called motherhood. Draco however, did not know this, and she intended it to be kept that way. Speaking in a falsely bright voice, she countered, "Different? Do you mean that I look more. responsible now?" her stress on the word became a dart that took Draco aback, "Well, running an ever expanding department and being expected to carry out research at the same time would change a person, you know. Not that I was ever irresponsible," she bit out.

"No, you never were irresponsible," he agreed quietly, "but I don't think that juggling your department would daunt you." In a more firm voice, he added, "You were, after all, the brightest in our year at Hogwarts, gained more NEWTs than anyone else, even while carrying out that insane campaign on Elf-Rights. No, I don't think running your department would have—"

At that moment, to Hermione's relief, James Sanderson wended his way over to them followed by a number of other healers. Turning from Draco's incomplete statement, Hermione smiled brilliantly at them and soon, she had been pulled into a conversation with several other people about the latest Quidditch scores. Draco, she saw, was not looking please at the interruption, but she ignored him while the noise level round them grew. Everyone was laughing and joking, and it was impossible for Hermione to remain angry with her nemesis, as she conversed with her colleagues.

Then, Harold Pinfold called for silence and the speeches began. Thankfully they weren't too long, all the speakers expounding on Edward's services to the hospital and wishing him a happy retirement. Hermione felt tears prick the back of her eyes as Edward himself thanked everyone for making his time at the hospital so enjoyable. She knew they had come to the end of an era tonight, and hoped the next one would not be as fraught with problems as her sixth sense warned her it would.

After the speeches, people began to disperse – all going up to Edward and wishing him a happy retirement before exiting the large room. Hermione waited until most of the other staff members had left before setting her untouched glass of vine down on a table, she made her own way over to Edward to hug him. Her throat felt constricted as he returned her affectionate hug. She knew she would miss him more than she could say, even if his ability to add two and two was not all that good.

"Have a wonderful retirement," she croaked, "I for one, will miss you more than you can know."

"Hey!" Edward cried, holding her away from him, "No tears now, and my girl. You're making it sound as though we'll never meet again and that will never do. Why, how will I know what's happening in your life if you don't come to visit me now and then?"

Hermione gave a watery smile. "Oh, you can't get rid of me that quickly. Of course I'll visit you – I'm only afraid you'll find me a nuisance!" She blinked away her tears, trying to give Edward a reassuring smile.

"Never, my dear," beamed Edward, "Both you and that little chit of yours will always be welcome for tea anytime!" Looking away from Hermione for a moment, he turned back to the young woman and added, "Frankly, I'm glad for Hanwell's that I'm leaving things in trustworthy hands, so don't you fret on my account. Things around here will only get better. Good luck, Hermione," he finished, giving her a final hug before stepping back and greeting Isabel Winterton, who had come up behind Hermione.

Returning his blessing, Hermione turned away and made her way down the length of the long room, and out into the quiet corridor. She had just turned away from the heavy doors, when they were wrenched open and Draco Malfoy strode out, his tailored silk grey robes billowing behind him. Hermione automatically quicken her pace on sight of him, but in three long strides, he had reached her, and taken her arm.

"What do you want?" she asked testily, not looking at him.

"To escort you out of the hospital, of course," came the lazy reply, "it certainly wouldn't do to allow such a lovely young lady to leave a party on her own. Oh, and to find out who 'that little chit of yours' might be."

Hermione's heart sank quicker than a heavy stone in water; he must have overheard Edward talking to her. 'Just like the eavesdropping snake he is' she thought savagely, as she sought desperately for a reply to his question. She could not afford to antagonise him, nor was it wise to change the topic – Draco was not stupid, and it would merely rouse his suspicions – she would have to come up with a good lie and fast. Her only comfort was that if Draco asked Edward what he had meant by his statement, she knew Edward would never divulge her secret.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Hermione pushed open the outer doors and stepped out into the warm April evening, with Draco right behind her. In a light voice, she asked, "Why would you want to know?"

"Oh, there's no particular reason," he gave an answering shrug, "just curious, that's all."

Hermione was not fooled for a minute – she recognised that tone of voice; it was one often adopted by Slytherins of her acquaintance when they were anxious to know something, but didn't want to appear too eager to find out. She gave a mental shrug – it was time to put her hastily concocted lie to the test.

"Well, I don't know if you know, but Edward's extremely fond of owls – studies them and breeds several different species of them as a hobby. Anyway, a while back, I invited him over to tea to discuss some financial matters, as well as to catch up. He saw my owl – she's rather common, but Edward, he took an instant liking to her. Apparently, my owl had 'personality'," she rolled her eyes, hoping that her act was good enough for the Slytherin, "Edward also mentioned one or two other facts about Zidkar, which I can't remember." She gave Draco a half-smile, shaking her head fondly, pretending exasperation at Edward's owl eccentricity. "You know how it is with owl hobbyists – next thing I know; he's calling her my 'little chit' and expecting me to bring my rag-tag owl along with me to tea!"

"Oh," Draco responded, biting his lip, looking a little disappointed, "for a moment there, I thought he was referring to a child."

Hermione let out a high-pitched slightly hysterical laugh, "Me? With a child?" she shook her head vehemently, "You can't be serious! I'm not crazy enough to juggle a Medi-witch career with children in tow!" she gave another laugh. "Um… well, it's been interesting meeting you. I'm sure you've other appointments to keep. This is where I leave you." They had reached the Apparation point at the edge of the grounds and Hermione was thankful to turn away from Draco's piercing scrutiny.

It was more than obvious Draco was not finished with the subject, and he swiftly turned her back to face him, an odd expression in his eyes. 'Surely that's not hope is it?' she thought, puzzled.

"Why would you having a child be something impossible?" he questioned, an unreadable expression on his face. "After all, for all I know you may very well have become pregnant after our last meeting." He leaned closer to her, his eyes boring into hers.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, her face paling. 'He doesn't know does he?' her mind kept repeating. 'All this while – he can't have known about Aurora!'

Draco saw Hermione's look of horror, followed by her frown. Misinterpreting her facial expressions, he flushed in anger and barked out, "I can clearly see now that the idea of motherhood repels you." Shaking his head with an expression Hermione couldn't decipher, Draco added, "I don't think… I just… I just thought to ask." Recovering from whatever it was that caused him to stumble over his words; his face steeled itself into a familiar sneer, as he bit out, "I doubt you possess enough maternal instincts to ever consider motherhood anyway!"

Grey eyes flashing, before Hermione could get in a word edgewise, he Disapparated, leaving the shocked and confused woman standing alone on the edge of Hanwell's Hospitals quiet grounds.

Rooted to the spot, Hermione could only stare at the spot Draco had vacated. She felt as though a runaway Bludger had knocked the wind out of her. She blinked, trying to make sense of the last few minutes, but for the life of her, she couldn't work out why Draco Malfoy would have flown into a temper like that. Then, with a shake of her head – 'Who knew what went on in that Slytherin git's mind?' – She too, Disapparated.

Draco Malfoy's mental state had nothing to do with her, but even so she still wondered at the strangeness of her encounter with him, as she arrived at her parent's house to take her daughter home.