The ancestors of the Malfoy family looked down at Narcissa curiously as she walked down the hallway, her skirts billowing softly just loud enough to drown out the suspicious whispers emanating from the paintings. She never knew why the Malfoy's were always so considerably disappointed with everything that seemed to go on in her home; should she so much as change the décor they would mutter under their breath, little snippets of 'typical of a non-Malfoy' would reach her ears and she would pause in her work, resigning herself to some other part of the house where their hooked noses couldn't appraise her and constantly find her wanting. Even when she had decided that she would make restorations to parts of the house that were looking somewhat dilapidated and in a state of disrepair (quite rare for any magical family worth their salt) the Malfoy paintings had tutted, disagreeing with every step that she had taken. Today though she ignored them, letting their mutterings bounce off her head as she rushed through the winding corridors. Disappointed ancestors were the last thing on her mind.

"Dilly?" She called sharply, not pausing in her relentless pace even when a small house-elf popped up beside her, her ears smaller and thinner than most, downturned as though perpetually sad. Dilly, on the other hand, was the most energetic and happy House-elf that Narcissa had ever come across, although she supposed that her judgement was a little skewed by her frequent run-ins with Kreacher when she was younger. The mottled and wrinkled elf seemed to have so much hate and venom that she was certain the poor thing did not know how to smile. Dilly, however, beamed constantly, her small beady eyes constantly lit with absolute adoration for her mistress, lips constantly twitching with the want to exalt her with any words that she could. The first time they'd met the stream of adjectives she'd used to promote Narcissa had got rather tiresome and Narcissa had forbidden her from ever doing it again. Sometimes she felt a little bad as she could see that it took Dilly considerable effort to abide by her Lady's wishes, but still, it was much quieter and a lot less embarrassing. A Malfoy she was but that much care and attention from one tiny creature was enough to make her feel a little ashamed.

"Get my fire-bowl and bring it to the drawing room." Dilly squeaked in delight.

"Right away, my Lady." With that she popped out of existence leaving Narcissa alone, her thoughts instantly straying to her son, to her suspicions and to the silence she'd received from Snape in reply to her letters. She admitted that the letters could have been less accusatory, less sharp and to the point, but she was scared for her son. Unfortunately, he was no longer blessed with the freedom of his childhood, he was no longer free to do as he wished, to go where he wished, to be with who he wished. Danger lurked around every corner of his life and made even more imminent by his father's embarrassing grovelling at the feet of that darkness.

But silence? Narcissa straightened her back indignantly, she was a Malfoy and before that, she had been a Black, they were proud and noble families and she would not be shoved to the side like some common half-breed. She stamped out her anger into the stone, listening to the ring of her steps. She had a suspicion, a mother's intuition that there was something going on with her son that Snape had neglected to tell her, even the though the professor had given her his word that he would keep her informed. Ignoring her letters was doing quite the opposite of that and she felt compelled to point out this little fact to him.

She swung open the door to the drawing room, the fire already crackling happily, a plush chair pulled near to it, bronze bowl resting on its cushion. Dilly, for all her excitement, was a fast worker and when the job was done she didn't linger, she simply clicked her fingers and was away to where she was needed next. Narcissa smiled a little as she picked up the bowl, gathering her skirts in her hands and kneeling before the fire. She flicked her wand gently, glowing embers from the bottom of the fire floating through the air and settling in the bowl. She stood and stepped back into the chair that Dilly had prepared for her, making herself comfortable. She took a pinch of Floo Powder from the small carved box that sat on the polished table to her right and sprinkled it over the embers watching the smoke curl lazily as it burnt.

The Fire Bowl was the ladies answer to propriety when communicating via the Floo-Network. It was Elemina Ovey who had been thoroughly dismayed by the sight of a Lady kneeling, shoving herself headfirst into some of the grandest fireplaces, rear end held obscenely raised in the air. Elemina Ovey was of the assertion that, while Wizards may find it proper to hold one's posterior in the air whilst communicating with others, witches did not. And so, the Fire Bowl was created, though possessing a rather unimaginative name, so that ladies might sit in comfort and propriety, delicately raising the bowl to their face to communicate.

Narcissa mumbled who she wished to speak to, raising the bowl to her face and blinking gently as she was greeted by the sight of Snape's back, his shoulders hunched over a black cauldron, stirring its contents gently. His office was a lot smaller than she expected it to be, the walls lined with jars of different shapes and sizes filled with all manner of weird and wonderful things. She knew she probably should have paid more attention during her own potion classes as she failed to identify several of the ingredients Snape had amassed.

Snape paused in his stirring stilling for a few seconds by beginning to stir again in the opposite direction. Narcissa found herself shaking her head, she had never understood how anyone could find potions so enjoyable, there was a certain amount of patience needed to brew particular potions, a patience that she found she did not possess. She was certain that even from a young age, the awkward dark-haired wizard had found something he liked staring at in the depths of his cauldron; something secret and mysterious that only he could see. She wondered if he'd be able to find an excuse for his actions as she cleared her throat. She bit back her amusement as the professor jumped, wooden spoon nearly dropping from his hand, the contents of his cauldron sloshing into the flames below making them sputter and smoke.

The dark-haired wizard managed to compose himself, turning to the fireplace, the air seeming to crackle with his annoyance. Narcissa barely gave it a passing thought, her eyes narrowing as she appraised the wizard before her.

"Mrs Malfoy, to what do I owe this untimely visit?" He sniffed, turning a chair toward the fire and sitting down. Narcissa pursed her lips at him unhappily, she did not enjoy the fact that he did not seem even slightly fazed by her call.

"You owe this to not replying to my letters." Snape's face seemed to jump and flicker uncomfortably before settling back into its usual state of indifference. "Now unless Hogwarts has a particular Owl problem I haven't been informed of, I'm very much inclined to believe that you have been ignoring me." She stated sharply.

"I have been incredibly busy as of late, new school terms will do that." He commented, leaning back and adjusting his robes around his legs.

"I don't really care how busy you've been, we had an agreement, you agreed that you would teach my son…"

"And I have been teaching him."

"Potion classes do not count, Severus." He winced as she spat his name, the embers hissing and crackling with her anger.

"I do have other students to concern myself with." Snape pointed out, now moving to inspect a potion stain on his sleeve. He tried his best to seem as though the weight of responsibility and secrets wasn't weighing him down but at times like this, he almost wished he could fold in on himself and leave both sides to hash it out alone.

"Other students, that are at risk like my son? If so, please do enlighten me." Snape held his tongue, not allowing Potters name to drop into the conversation, there would be far too many suspicions, far too many questions.

"I understand your concern for Draco, but he is in the best place and his lessons are coming on in leaps and bounds."

"Best place? Have you been reading the news?"

"Narcissa, I think you will find that I have been here, I know the issues that we are facing at Hogwarts." Snape sighed.

"And what of the Granger girl?" Narcissa asked quickly and Snape found himself momentarily stunned, quickly schooling his features and meeting the witches fiery gaze.

"What about her?" He shrugged slightly trying to salvage the situation, but he could tell from the look of glowing triumph on her face that he wasn't going to fool anyone.

"I know Severus, I've seen the way Draco looks at her."

"I'm sure you're just imagining things, Mrs Malfoy. I can assure you that Granger has been nothing but an annoyance to your son for as long as they've been at school." Narcissa did not seem convinced.

"I'm his mother, I think I know my son."

"There is nothing to be concerned about, I assure you."

"It's true isn't it?" Snape said nothing turning his attention to a jar of pond mulch, hoping Malfoys mother would get bored of her line of questioning. Words failed her as she searched Severus' face for a clue.

"Severus Snape you will answer me, and you will answer me truthfully."

"Draco may have shown some minor interest."

"I knew it," she breathed, shaking her head and swallowing a sob that had risen to the back of her throat. "He can't, Severus…he can't be with her."

"He isn't." Snape quickly snapped, though he completely agreed that any such relationship would end in tragedy there was a strange sort of anger that settled in his gut at the thought of there being no choice for either of them.

The information seemed to make Narcissa pause, her face turning towards him in the ember and ashes.

"What would you have me do? If anything like this…if he is with her I can't…I can't protect him."

Snape understood Narcissa's worry, but he also understood Malfoy much to his chagrin. To want, to hope, to love and need someone so bad that even when gone, every breath, every word and thought is theirs. An entire life spent in paying homage to all they were. He knew how everything was stolen even before he'd had the chance to embrace it as his own. He hated when people spoke to him of the wondrous love that saved Harry Potter, he would clench his fists till his nails carved tiny crescents in his palm. All it ended up being was a constant reminder that his love hadn't done the same for her.

"I will make sure the boy is kept safe," Snape assured.

"And you will continue his lessons?"

"And, when I have the time I will endeavour to continue his lessons." Snape nodded hoping that would be all that was required of him but Narcissa spoke softly and the hope dwindled into nothingness.

"I want him to be happy, Severus, and safe, how can I do that when everything I do to keep him safe makes him unhappy?"

Her words warmed his heart a little, moved a little by the evidence that at least one of Draco Malfoys parents cared for him. He had no answers for her and so kept silent. He heard her exhale slightly as if realising the futility of her question.

"Just please…keep him safe…I…goodnight Severus." Snape nodded at the fire and watched her face disappear, a large piece of coal, burning red with heat, rolling slightly as the embers shifted in her absence.

Snape let his head fall back against the back of his high-backed chair. He could not deny that he'd let thoughts of Draco Malfoy slip a little to the father reaches of his mind. There was too much else happening all at once; the new year, the presence of the ministry even Harry Potter had once again become a priority. Still, the boy did have a warning, the one memory he had vowed never to show anyone else, not even Dumbledore.

He would keep his promise, right till his last breath but he wasn't sure that would make much of a difference. He knew the lengths he'd gone to trying to make Lily fall in love with him and he had a feeling that, regardless of all the warning, all he had been shown, Draco Malfoy would do the same with Hermione Granger.

Hermione gulped nervously as she wiped her palms on her skirt, rounding the corner to where she was supposed to meet Malfoy, heaving a sigh of relief when she found that he wasn't there yet. The night before had been…well, it had been unbelievable, she'd struggled over her sobs and confusion to even try to relate to Ginny what had gone on with them. Whenever she played it back in her mind she found herself convinced that it was a trick of the Sensieve's magic, just some minor hallucinations that she could wave off and forget about. But then she'd seen him at breakfast, the familiar greyness of his stare and she hadn't felt angry. No, instead she'd felt the same breathless, dizzy multitude of feelings she'd felt the night before rushed back making her feel as though the world were fading away fast and she hadn't quite found anything adequate to hold onto.

She was a little annoyed at herself, she was after all Hermione Granger and she would not be treated like an idiot, but when she thought about it she came to the realisation that she'd let him. Let him wander back into her life with his half-hearted apologies and eyes full of his usual haughty sense of entitlement, and it was by far the most idiotic things she'd done in a long while. To top it all off she'd somehow ended up enveloped in his arms, his hand on hers, finger dropping between the gaps where hers weren't.

Problem, massive, huge, insurmountable problem was that it had felt wonderful, calming in the most uncalming way; like she'd licked her fingers and stuck them into a plug socket, but found the whole experience strangely cathartic. She'd wanted to draw him closer at the same time as wanting to push him away, where she could beat some sense into his ferity head.

She'd somehow convinced herself that their little moment didn't mean that she'd forgiven him, quite the contrary. They weren't 'friends', weren't back to pretending that they hadn't been enemies for an age. No, she wasn't having that again; letting Malfoy anywhere close to friendship proved to be too much of a confusing experience for her to ever actively partake in it again. Her behaviour the previous night had been a momentary lapse in common sense if he could have them so could she and it was no big deal, nothing to lose her mind over.

Besides, she nodded to herself to affirm the thought, there was a much more annoying pink thing to worry about. Umbridge's increased presence and power within the Ministry and the school was beginning to worry her, let alone the fact that lessons with her covered little more than the basics. Basics which she'd read and memorised, knew inside out and had used to help Harry defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named more times than she cared to think about. Nothing they were being taught was going to bring her remotely close to passing her OWLS and nowhere near being able to protect herself.

Hermione nodded to herself as she shifted in the alcove, she would treat her time with Malfoy for what it was, curiosity. A chance to see Mina's memories and find out what happened to her. She vowed silently that she would not let herself be swept along as she had before, there were much bigger things at stake than Malfoy's monstrous ego and honestly, it was getting exhausting trying to keep up with him.

Still, he had been sweet, the way he'd held her had felt nice in a way. The memories still flooded in and accosted her with all the terrible things she desperately wanted to forget but his voice in her hair made them seem bearable.

"Granger." She nearly jumped as he said her name in what sounded like relief as if he hadn't expected her to be waiting there for him. She bit her lip to keep herself from pointing out the fact that she wasn't the one that broke promises.

"Sorry, I'm late…I…" Hermione noticed his dishevelled appearance, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. She guessed he'd been with Daphne and her thoughts strayed to whether he'd held the blonde the same way he'd held her the previous night. She shook her head quickly, shrugging her shoulders and walking past him.

"Shall we go?" She asked, her voice clipped and business-like, making Draco's brow furrow in confusion.

"Granger what…" He went to grab her arm and she pulled it away. She didn't know why she was suddenly so angry, but she felt as if her entire body burnt with it. She watched as Draco stared at his hand for some time before looking up at her, sadness seeming to darken his grey eyes.

"I don't…" He shook his head.

"Just because we have rounds together and the Sensieve doesn't mean that we are friends. You were a jerk, an absolute complete knob and what? I'm just supposed to forgive you?"

"We spoke about this."

"No, you spoke about it, as usual, Malfoy gets to say what he wants and disregards everyone else's feelings."

"So, Scarface and Ronniekins would be subjected to this too, if they'd messed up? Of course not, you'd be grovelling at their feet faster than they could find it within themselves to look even remotely apologetic." He had a point, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction.

"I do not grovel, and Harry and Ron are nothing, nothing like you." She spat, pointing a finger in his face.

"Okay, so we're just going to do our rounds this week, and then what?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders non-committedly, sneering at her sarcastically. "We go back to our normal hating each other, wait for the Sensieve to pluck us out of thin air and dump us in another memory, I'm dying to hear what explanations you'll have for your little friends when that happens."

Hermione paused, she hadn't considered that, hadn't thought about the fact that the Sensieve's magic would get stronger and possibly affect them outside their little meetings, it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility, considering all the other weird and wonderful things it had managed to do. She also was quite shocked when her heart ached at little at the thought of them going back to how they were before, back to hating each other. How many times had they had this argument, how many times had they gone over, threatened the same things and somehow, they still ended up being drawn back together.

"Can't you understand why I would be angry, you blow hot and cold all of the time, I can..." she rubbed her eyes in frustration, "I can't keep up."

"You can't keep up? What about last night, you were…"

"Last night was different and you know it."

"Oh, so when it's you it 'different' when it's me its because I'm an arsehole who likes toying with people's emotions. Honestly, Granger, you must have me pegged as some royally sadistic prick."

"Can you blame me? One minute you act as though we…I don't know, as though we could be friends or…" she daren't finish her train of thought, though her mind added it. As though they could be more, she didn't really know what that more was, but it was something. Unbelievably she found her mind wandering more and more to the kiss and what it would feel like if he meant it. If he wanted to do it.

"And the next it's the same old Malfoy, self-entitled arse that has no time for anyone that doesn't have a pompous family name."

"You're a fine one to talk, shall I come make idle chit-chat with you and your Gryffindor friends, sure they'll be thrilled with that turn of events."

"Pretty sure that would work quite nicely if you could ever learn to be civil."

"I was being civil until some stuck-up Gryffindor thought she was above all that." He muttered, walking away.

"I am worth more than your lousy attempts at friendship."

"Yeah whatever, Granger, let's get this over with, then you can go back to hating me like you so obviously want to."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, it was exactly what she planned, exactly what she wanted and yet somehow, it felt nothing like she wanted. Her chest physically hurt as he walked away, and she felt herself erring on the side of forgiveness before chastising herself. It was Draco Malfoy, he wasn't hurt by her words, just probably annoyed that she'd accused him of something that he actually did. She took a deep breath and followed him hoping that the air around them would at least clear a little, so she could breathe easier.

They were a good way into their prefect duty and Hermione as almost convinced that the Sensieve wouldn't make an appearance, certain that it would leave them to the awkward atmosphere they'd managed to create. Suddenly though the walls began to change, the silver mist swirling around their feet as they were dragged into another memory.