A/N: I've been waiting to post this chapter as I've taken a little break from writing for the past week - mainly for my sanity as I'm working on this and another (non-fanfic) piece as well. Otherwise my various different characters keep vying for attention in my head and I can't concentrate, haha! The Draco in my head can be quite demanding so I've had to tie him up and lock him in a cupboard for now...

Rest assured though - this story will be continuing. I haven't given up on it and I have chapter 7 already written - I'm just editing it. Hopefully I will make a start on chapter 8 soon. I know where this story is going to go; I have the ending planned out in my head and I know how this will end. I just need to get there. :)

Enjoy the chapter - and THANK YOU to those who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate your feedback.

serenarian1 x

Chapter 6 – Undertow

I watched from behind the screen as Draco duelled with the training dummy; an old mannequin enchanted to cast unpredictable spells. I chuckled to myself as I entertained the concept; in many ways it was the Wizarding version of a shooting range. Spells of every imaginable colour flashed off the one-way glass as I continued to watch, wincing now and again as a spell flashed a little too close to him. I heard the door behind me opening and closing but didn't turn around.

"Hermione? Are you busy?" It was Harry's voice. I span around with a wide smile, welcoming him. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly before putting them back on and returning the smile. "I wanted to ask you about something."

"No, I'm not especially busy. Just watching the duelling practice," I replied, gesturing towards the glass. "What's on your mind?"

Harry walked closer and looked through the glass. "It seems I caught you at just the right time. I've been wondering about what you told me about Malfoy and his duelling." He leaned closer. "It's odd that he would be casting by rote and not throwing Dark spells."

I nodded, joining him near the glass. "I was just surprised. I expected it to be a result of his Death Eater training but the lack of Dark magic would suggest that's not the case. Could it be because of duelling club?"

Harry snorted. "Not likely. We only had duelling club that one year and we didn't do much, remember?" His green eyes followed Draco's movements intently. "He's doing more defensive than offensive magic, by the look of it," he commented, almost to himself. "Have you tried to break his rotation?"

I shook my head. "No, there's no point at the moment. I want to see what I have to work with before I try to modify his battle stance and increase his range."

"How's he doing otherwise? I only went along with him being accepted onto training because Shacklebolt was very persuasive. I know they relaxed the entry requirements after the war, but still… I was surprised that Malfoy's criminal record was so easily ignored."

"He doesn't really have a criminal record though does he? I mean – he was never tried. He disappeared before that could happen. Otherwise he would."

Harry nodded. "That's true. He's quite good, better than I thought. Very fluid."

I felt weirdly proud of Draco as we watched him. "He does it almost unconsciously," I remarked. "The first time we duelled he didn't know if half the spells he was using were even real."

Harry merely nodded in response. "That bothers me," he replied. "Malfoy is a pureblood wizard – magic is innate to him. He should never forget spells, even if he suffered head injuries such as the ones he incurred."

My eyes flicked back to him. "What exactly were his injuries? You never said, and he looked fine when he was introduced to me."

Harry grimaced. "They were bad, Hermione. When he was given over to us from Wales his head was in a bad way. He'd been beaten with some kind of blunt object and his scalp was torn. He needed serious medical attention – we sent him straight to St Mungos and they worked on him overnight."

I looked away from Harry and back through the glass; back to Draco who was now moving quickly, throwing a variety of spells while strafing around the dummy. He looked calm and controlled, and I felt my chest tighten at the idea of him being hurt so badly. I bit my lip to stop myself from showing how I felt, aware that Harry was watching me intently.

"So tell me Hermione – when did you start to care about him?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing.

Oh holy mother of Merlin. "What makes you think I do?" My voice shook a little as I answered him and he laughed. I turned to face him. "All right, Harry – I don't know, okay? I just – it's hard to switch off my empathy, even to someone like him."

"That's fine, Hermione," he chuckled. "I never said you couldn't care about him. He probably needs a friend right now." He leaned away from the glass and smiled at me. "Yes, he was a prick in school but we haven't seen him since the war."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You're being awfully forgiving," I reprimanded, "considering he's the prime suspect in Ron's murder. And you're concerned with the idea that he might need a friend?" My voice rose in anguish as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. "Harry – you are my best friend, but since you have given me this assignment I have spent all my days feeling atrociously guilty about the fact that I am being forced to live with – and get along with – the man whom I think killed my fiancé!"

He held his hands up, his calm green eyes focusing on mine. "Calm down, Hermione," he said flatly. "Do you think I like this? Do you really think I wanted to do this?" Anger flashed across his features as I stared at him. "This situation is someone's idea of a really sick joke, but here we are and we have to deal with it!" He stopped abruptly before he raised his voice any further. "Besides, you seemed to be getting on okay with him. I assumed you were making the best of this – what's got you so rattled all of a sudden?"

Damn Harry and his perceptive nature. He had me cornered, and I found myself squirming under his unflinching gaze. "I'm attracted to him," I mumbled, looking away. I watched him as his eyebrows shot up. I flushed scarlet, feeling suddenly angry and embarrassed all at the same time. "There you go – there's the horribly ironic twist in the latest messed up instalment of Hermione Granger's life," I added bitterly.

He looked suddenly sympathetic. "Your life isn't messed up, Hermione. Why would you say that?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I burst into tears. "I had it all planned out, Harry!" I sobbed. "I was supposed to become a key member of the Auror Office, marry Ron and have his children eventually! I wanted to open a bookshop and spend half my time looking after the kids and the other half surrounded by books and people who love to read as much as I do." I brushed my tears away angrily. "That plan has now gone to shit, hasn't it? Instead I'm training new Auror recruits and spending my days bunking up with the man I should hate because I believe he killed Ron!"

In two strides he was beside me and throwing his arms around me in a comforting hug. "I know I've said this before, but you really need to let go of this obsession that Malfoy was Ron's murderer," he said soothingly. "The fact is that there's no evidence at the moment – if there were, I'd be taking him to the Wizengamot myself. You know that, 'Mione."

I nodded into his shoulder through my tears. "You know I hate that nickname," I grumbled, and he laughed. "I just always assumed it was him, Harry."

"I know," he soothed, rubbing my back. "I know." He released me then, and I rubbed my eyes before smiling at him in silent thanks. "In the meantime, keep an eye on him. His training seems to be going well. Let me know if he remembers anything more or his duelling patterns change. Obviously, if anything Dark shows up then let me know at once."

I nodded, back in Auror mode. "Of course, boss." Harry grinned at me before turning on his heel and leaving the observation chamber. I made my way back to the glass and pressed the little button that would carry my voice into the duelling hall. "Okay Draco, you can take ten minutes," I called, simultaneously deactivating the spell that animated the training dummy. Slipping through the door to my right, I walked into the hall.

Draco was sitting on the floor, panting. His training uniform was damp, and droplets of sweat sparkled on his forehead. His hair was dark with moisture. "I didn't… realise… training… would be so… intense," he forced out through sharp intakes of breath. I smiled and handed him a bottle of chilled water, which he accepted before almost wrenching off the top and drinking deeply from it.

"Auror training is intense," I said conversationally. "Of course, after the war anyone involved in the final battle was allowed to skip the first year of training. Otherwise I would still be training myself. I completed my training a year ago and rose through the ranks reasonably quickly."

"I respect you for that, having just duelled constantly for the best part of an hour," he responded, his voice and breathing returning to normal. "Although I'm guessing your initial training consisted of trading duels with Death Eaters who were hell-bent on killing you?" I nodded, and he took another drink. "In that case, I should stop complaining and get on with it. At least the training dummy isn't flinging Unforgivables at me."

"That can be arranged, you know," I reminded him. "As a matter of fact, in the last stage of your training, it will be flinging them at you."

He nodded. "I'd expect nothing less."

Chuckling, I nodded to him and made my way back into the observation chamber as he stood and stretched his muscles. "Initiating phase two of the training, Mr Malfoy!" I called through the speaker system. "Take your stance, and let's begin!"

"Wait," he called suddenly, holding up his hand. "Hermione – could you come back in here a moment?"

I did as he asked, slipping through the still-open door and walking to his side. "Yes?"

He fixed his gaze on me and I felt myself tremble. "I – I wanted to admit something to you before I continue with this," he stuttered. "The only way I can get through these practice duels is to imagine a scenario in my head." He looked at me half nervously and I motioned for him to continue, trying to figure out where he was going with this. He cleared his throat, his gaze moving around the room. "The only way I can fight with any conviction is to pretend that the dummy –" at this point he gestured to the mannequin "- is a Death Eater seeking your blood."

My mouth dropped open. "You're imagining that you are protecting me?" I asked in disbelief.

He nodded. "It's the only thing I can do. I have nobody, Hermione, or if I do I don't remember them. I only have you. At this point you're the only thing I care about." His gaze finally met mine, and his eyes were almost liquid as they searched my face. "I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head wordlessly, unsure what to say. Eventually I found my voice. "I don't mind at all," I gasped. He began to lower his head to mine but I reached up and pressed my finger against his lips. "Not here," I reprimanded softly. "We're at work."

He straightened up. "Of course," he said with a smile. He gestured to the dummy with his wand. "Turn this big scary Death Eater back on and I can pick up where I left off."

I returned the smile before making my way back into the observation room and flicking my wand to reinstate the spell. Immediately he sprang into action, and I rested my chin on my hand as I watched, unable to fight my fascination that he was using me as a reason to fight. Despite it going against every fibre of my logical nature; I couldn't help but think that something else was happening here, something bigger. It was like his reappearance had set something in motion. I found myself, somewhat bleakly, comparing it to a tidal wave. I kept to myself the fact that I was quickly becoming caught in the undertow.