A/N: I've really enjoyed and appreciated the reviews and follows I've gotten on this story. This was a pet project of mine from two years ago, and then I lost all my files after I'd written 20,000 words so I had to start over. I'm doing this thing where I'm posting a chapter only after I've finished writing the chapter that comes after it as a way of holding myself accountable in my writing. I have schizoaffective disorder so it's difficult for me to retain an active writing and posting schedule. Granted, I have nine chapters of this already written but since I originally started posting on AO3, it's been a bit slower over here as I'm trying to space things out. Anyway, I couldn't stop myself from posting this chapter earlier than I was going to because it's just one of my favorites. I'm excited to see more of your reactions as this goes on as I think some of it may come as a surprise to you. This story is really about their journey through this convoluted relationship they're building and how they're both growing after the war, so not a lot of action in terms of fighting the big, bad evils. - Also big thanks to HarryPGinnyW4eva 3 you make this work even more fun for me and inspire me to continue even when I feel as if it won't be good enough. I appreciate you :)

October 2001

Her office door swung open and a red-faced Draco stormed in, parchment clutched in his right hand and wand in his left. Hermione set her quill down calmly, registering that the figures in her foe-glass were still hazy and out of focus, meaning he had not come explicitly searching to harm her. Draco slapped the parchment onto her desk before slipping his now empty hand into his pants pocket. She glanced at the paperwork, looking back up to see him arching an eyebrow at her undisturbed expression.

"Yes?" She questioned.

"What the bloody hell is this, Granger?"

"I do believe it's parchment, Malfoy." At her response, he huffed and turned slightly, his eyes darting around her office.

"You know damn well I mean what's on the parchment. A proposal for us-" he emphasized the word, drawing out the 's' in a hiss and gesturing wildly to her with his right hand. "-to take a group of students on a weekend trip to muggle London!"

If Hermione wasn't so concerned about the tight grip he had on his wand, she would've barked out a laugh at how he seemed to struggle with the word 'muggle'.

"Ah, I see McGonagall got it to you then," she said, folding her hands on the edge of her desk and leaning forward to look down at the proposal. "I'd ask what your thoughts on it are, but it seems you're not up for it."

"Not up for it? Not up-" he broke off, swiping his free hand through his hair which already looked like it'd been brushed back one too many times. "Granger, I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, what the bloody hell does that have to do with muggle London?"

"A whole damn lot, Malfoy, that's what." Hermione finally stood, arms crossed across her chest as she felt the anger start to bubble in her throat. "In case you weren't paying attention during the war, muggles faced a lot of death and destruction caused by wizards and were left with no explanations for the chaos. The students need to learn and understand this. Defensive magic is not only used for wizards; it's used to help all individuals on earth including muggles. Our students need to see the deep history of the muggle world and what it means to protect it."

Draco stared back at her, cheeks returning to their original pale state. Another huff came from his mouth before he looked down at the parchment, then pushed back his hair once again.

"You and your bloody history of magic bullshit again…" he muttered, reaching down to collect the parchment from her desk. "When did you want to do this, huh?"

"Uh," Hermione blanked, surprised that he folded so quickly. She had been expecting more pushback, more demand to make it a day trip or somewhere not as heavily populated. He held up a hand, as if shushing her already dumbfounded silence.

"Absolutely not happening during Quidditch season, though. I have to be here to watch Slytherin kick Gryffindor's ass," he said with an almost tired smirk. The creases in the corners of his mouth showed his age and Hermione suddenly felt tired herself. The exchange was so similar to their early days before the war that even their eighth year felt like it was ages ago now, even though it had only been three years since then.

"You pick a weekend then, Malfoy, if that's your only issue," she said, sitting back at her desk. "I'll get you the schedule within the week."

"The schedule?" Draco asked.

"Yes, of where we'll be staying, what we're going to be doing." The two just looked at each other for a minute as Hermione let Draco process what she had said.

"Where we'll be staying. You mean we'll be staying in a muggle hotel?" He spoke slowly, as if making sure she could understand him.

"Yes, Malfoy, where else would we stay?" She watched as he opened and closed his mouth silently, before his eyes darted around her office once again. With another huff and then a nod towards her, he turned on his heel and walked out. Hermione let out a large sigh before sinking back into her chair and bringing her thumb nail to her bottom lip, tapping at the skin in thought of what she was going to do. When he had finally passed the Ministry's and McGonagall's requirements to teach, Hermione had been blindsided the day he showed up in the Great Hall. The bigger shock had been hearing that he was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position which hadn't quite lost its reputation of being cursed yet. Now that he was going into his second year in charge of the class, it seemed the cycle had been broken with Voldemort's death.

It had actually been McGonagall's idea to have Hermione come up with something the two of them could do together with Fifth Year students in relation to the war. As the professor of History of Magic, Hermione prided herself in teaching the straight truth to her students of the events that transpired over those past years and hoped they understood the gravity of the situation. She had argued, however, with McGonagall about having to work with Draco like this. Certainly, she couldn't be honest with her students about which side their professor was on during the war and that the two had fought against each other, in quite personal battles as well. Even though they had come to an understanding with each other, their pasts still remained murky between them.

McGonagall had simply straightened her back and told Hermione that no other professor would come up with something to do with him, and that he needed just one project working with another professor in order to prove his capability and ensure his future standing at Hogwarts. Hermione stewed for a few seconds before feeling that fuzzy bubble of pride in her stomach as she could do what no other professor could push themselves to do. (Plus, she always loved a good challenge.)

And so, Hermione found herself in this situation, planning an event that would surely make him as miserable as she would be and it seemed she had done what she had set out to do. She just hoped she didn't sign her own death sentence.

Over the next couple of weeks, Draco avoided her besides a short moment that he slipped her a piece of parchment at breakfast containing a list of weekends she could choose from for their trip. With a glare sent his way, she took out her quill and hurriedly slashed a circle around one of the dates and flung it back at him where it landed in his eggs. His lip curled up as he looked over at her, fingers gingerly plucking the parchment from his plate. Hermione felt a twinge of victory as she returned to her toast.

November 2001

The day they were set to leave was also unfortunately one of the coldest days of the winter season so far. Hermione wrapped herself in thick bundles of muggle clothing before deciding not to layer warming charms over her body as they would just make her sweat with the amount of clothing she had on. After making sure Crookshanks was comfortable and taken care of by the enchantments she set in her suite, Hermione gathered her bag and headed for the Great Hall. There, she was greeted by the faces of the fifth-year students and Draco.

"Okay, so, hello! I hope you're all prepared for this weekend, as it's going to be pretty cold for a while and we will be immersing ourselves in muggle culture while we're out there. We're going to go out for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and then we'll take a walk through Covent Garden, which is kind of like a shopping district. How's that sound? Then, we'll find somewhere for dinner and then our hotel," Hermione explained to the group before her, Draco to her left looking out at the group with a bored expression. She nudged his shoulder gently as the students voiced their excitement, and he turned a hard stare her way. She simply stared back at him, before turning to lead the students down a hallway which led to a small staircase down to another hallway which ended at a door. Opening the door, Hermione led the students into a decent-sized room where a fireplace sat desolate and empty, a flowerpot sitting on the mantel.

"Two by two! Take a handful of floo powder and say 'Leaky Cauldron'! We'll meet you all there when everyone's gone through, so go ahead and find a seat when you get there," Hermione called out the instructions as the room filled up. Draco stood by the door, herding the last few students in, and watching her carefully. The two professors waited as the students gradually disappeared until they were the only two people left to go through.

"Let's go, Granger," Draco said as he watched her struggle to reach the floo powder in all of her layers without dropping her bag. Somehow she'd made it so her arm movement was restricted and she had begun to get fed up, about to accio the floo powder right off the mantel, but then Draco was grabbing her arm. Hermione turned, shocked, but he already had a handful of the powder and was dragging her into the fire with him where they were swept away quickly. They landed in the Leaky Cauldron where Hermione's stumbling led the two straight to the floor. Chittering laughter from their students filled Hermione's ears as she struggled to sit up.

"Merlin, Granger, why are you a human pygmy puff right now?" Draco hissed from underneath her, pushing up on her shoulders to help her up so he could also stand.

"It's cold out, Malfoy, and I'm a bit averse to freezing to death," Hermione snapped back under her breath so that their students wouldn't hear her tone. She finally pulled herself to her feet and held out a hand to him, which he avoided as he stood on his own. Turning his nose up as he glanced at her, he stalked off to an empty table and sat down. Muttering under her breath, Hermione followed and sat across from him.

"You know, you are a witch, might as well use the magic you've been given," Draco said, not looking at her but instead scanning the room with careful eyes. Hermione noted the grip he had on his wand, which seemed inconspicuously placed on the table but she knew it was a defensive move. She didn't respond, instead tracing shapes on the tabletop with her fingertip in the silence that followed. Suddenly, his eyes were on her. "Did you even use any warming charms?"

"Of course not, I'm dressed for the weather outside, I'd hate to sweat all day," she rolled her eyes. "But we are trying to immerse ourselves in muggle culture so the least we can do is look the part." Her eyes trailed over his simple black overcoat and silver dress shirt which would have done him no good in the weather without any charms. Draco's lip curled up, and he leaned forward.

"I'll have you know-" Before he could continue with whatever it was he was going to say, Tom came by their table with a notepad and a quill which was writing by itself rapidly on the notepad floating next to his right ear. Draco turned his head to tell the bartender his order and Hermione sighed before doing the same as Tom then turned his attention to her. As he walked away, quill still scribbling away, Draco slid his wand off the table.

"Why are you on edge right now, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, back to tracing her fingertip on the tabletop. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I'm unsure what you mean," was his response. She nodded at his arm, stiff at his side where he held his wand in his lap. "It's just precaution."

"Precaution?"

"You never know who's around, Granger, it's never a bad idea to be too safe." His eyes darted around the room, scanning each corner and every seat. She didn't say anything else. When their food appeared a few minutes later, they ate in silence. Hermione noted that he continued to watch the room carefully as he ate, and found herself doing the same by the time she finished.

November 2001

Hermione sat at a table at a cafe in Covent Garden, sipping an espresso and reading a book she had packed. The students were to meet her and Draco here in about twenty minutes as they'd been left to wander for a few hours through the shopping district. Draco had disappeared when the students dispersed, and Hermione stayed at the bustling cafe to enjoy herself. Shopping wasn't entirely her thing and seeing as how she was already using quite a bit of her savings for this trip, she didn't feel the need to go looking for something she'd end up buying and never use.

The chair across from her squeaked against the floor as it moved and she looked up to see Draco, glare and all, settling down. Behind him, three young girls sighed in disappointment as he leaned towards Hermione and she stifled a laugh, turning to look him in the eye as he lowered his voice to talk to her.

"This has got to be one of the worst places to exist, Granger," he started. "Muggles have no sense of fashion and even less sense of propriety." The three girls behind him finally moved to take a seat in the cafe, watching him with longing eyes, and Hermione almost choked on her espresso when one of them slowly reached a hand out to trace his outline. What the-

"What are you prattling on about, Malfoy?" Hermione swallowed down her drink, setting the cup on the table and looking back at him. His glare seemed to sink deeper into the lines of his cheeks.

"It's a damn circus out there, that's what. Some old lady snatched a dress out of my hands and started going off on me for being 'indecent'," he waved his hands, mocking her. "I was looking for my mother's size, how is that indecent? It was one of the few things here that actually had a modicum of style and she enjoys finding new things to try; a son should be allowed to buy his mother a dress, fuck's sake." His eyes scanned the cafe, his fingers tapping against the side of his overcoat where Hermione knew he had his wand stashed.

"Hold on, Malfoy, a circus?" This was the part that caught her attention. "How do you know what a circus is?"

"Longbottom told me once."

"Neville?" Now Hermione was thoroughly confused. The Herbology professor kept to himself these days since the passing of his grandmother, so Hermione hadn't seen him much in the recent weeks.

"About a year ago. We ran into each other at St. Mungo's and because I was stuck where I was, I got to hear him prattle on about his weekend plans," Draco huffed, rolling his eyes before looking at her deadpanned. "Mentioned a circus and, because I don't like to feel stupid, I had to know what it was."

"Stuck, what do you mean stuck?" Before Draco could respond to her question, one of the girls from the group that had been following him approached the table quietly and tapped his shoulder. He turned with an expression Hermione couldn't quite define as anything but pained. The girl smiled, and Hermione realized that she couldn't be more than 18 years old.

"Sorry to bother you, my name's Ella. I was just wondering if I could get your email? I think you're really handsome and I'd like to IM you sometime," she spoke softly, her hands fidgeting. If Hermione hadn't watched their earlier stalking, she'd think the interaction was sweet, but now she just wanted to laugh at the absurdity of asking for Draco's email address. It seemed he had a similar feeling as he just blinked at her.

"My email?" He then asked. She nodded quickly, like if she didn't nod fast enough she'd lose out on the conversation. His face simply twisted in confusion before he turned to gesture at Hermione. Hermione stared back at him, wondering where he was going with his gesturing. "I'm not sure my girlfriend would be too happy with me sharing that with you. I'm sure you understand."

Both Hermione and Ella stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. Hermione's jaw had dropped at the word girlfriend and Ella's hands had stalled their fidgeting. Draco simply nodded as if he solved the problem to world hunger by snapping his fingers.

"Oh, I'm-I'm sorry," Ella bit out as her cheeks started to flush. She looked at Hermione with a doe-like expression, all wide eyes and partially opened mouth, before turning on her heel to head back to her friends. Hermione sent Draco a stern look and he shook his head at her.

"You'll turn into McGonagall if you keep making that face," he snipped at her, eyes darting around the cafe now that his attention had shifted.

"Seriously? Girlfriend? You couldn't think of a better way to decline?" Hermione leaned forward to hiss at him.

"Keep your voice down," he leaned forward as well, snapping his eyes to meet hers. "I don't know what a bloody email is, so that was the best I could think of, Granger."

"It's a form of technology, Malfoy. Essentially the muggle way of sending an owl. She wanted to talk to you, get to know you," Hermione explained, exasperated.

"Well I didn't want to talk to her! So it's a good thing I said what I said." He seemed done with the conversation as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Before Hermione could argue further, she noticed some of their students outside the window.

"Let's just get out of here." She stood, Draco following her line of sight to their group gathering outside, and they headed out to meet them.