After working over a bubbling cauldron for several hours straight, Hermione's hair was a frizzy tangle, and her eyes stung from the caustic fumes. If her potions desk had looked anything like this at Hogwarts (components strewn around the room haphazardly), she'd have been docked house points. A loud gurgle from her stomach reminded her that she'd missed lunch and it was now approaching dinner time. Reluctantly, she decided it was time to take a break, though she knew she was close to finding a solution and the urge to work through the night was difficult to resist.

Stripping off her protective gear, she washed quickly and went in search of something to eat. As she passed the fridge, she noticed a new text message on her mobile.

Ginny: she's going to be the death of me I swear!

Hermione smiled, imagining Ginny rolling her eyes as she'd typed out the message. She was so glad that she had been able to convince Ginny to use Muggle texting — waiting for an owl to fly across the continent was an absurd method of communication. Sure they could Floo call, but nothing could beat the convenience of sending a quick note — not needing to crouch in front of a fireplace was an added bonus.

She'd tried convincing George Weasley (on several occasions) to develop a wizarding-mobile equivalent, but he claimed there wasn't a market for it. The man was a creative genius, but sometimes he was incredibly short sighted.

Hermione: What did she do this time?

Ginny: bloody woman sent my kit through the wash

Hermione: I take it the team is on a winning streak?

Ginny was obnoxiously superstitious and refused to wash her kit when she was on a winning streak. Not only was it disgusting, it was completely illogical! Wrinkling her nose, Hermione was suddenly glad that Ginny moved out before her pro quidditch career had taken off.

Ginny: 5 games

this is going to throw off my whole groove

next game is a loss

i'm calling it now

Hermione:You have got to be the luckiest person in the world already, Gin.

I've lived with you. I know how badly you need to shower after a game and I can only imagine how the kit must smell!

The fact that somehow Cho is willing to deal with it is mind-blowing.

Ginny: i make it worth her time ;)

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Hermione: Not smelling like that you aren't!

I'm serious Gin! You have a good thing going.

Don't muck it up!

Ginny: you've got nothing to worry about with cho she's not getting away from me

you should be worrying about your own love life

or lack thereof

Hermione:Rude

Ginny: but true

kidding but not kidding

let me set you up with one of the blokes on the tornados

not all of them are complete idiots

Hermione rolled her eyes even harder — they'd had this conversation too many times to count. It wasn't as though she hadn't tried. She'd dated around a bit after the war, but most of the people she went out with ended up boring her half to death. She needed a partner who could engage with her on an intellectual level, and on the rare occasions where she found that, they didn't seem to understand her idiosyncrasies. None of them had taken an active part in the war, so they didn't understand the paranoia and obsessive protection spells, and couldn't support her during her anxiety attacks. In short, they couldn't make her feel truly safe. The result was that she'd given up on serious dating a few years ago — it was too distracting anyway.

She ignored the chirping of her mobile as more messages arrived, and continued her hunt for something edible. Eventually, she gave up and settled for a cup of instant noodles.

Ginny: still being forced to work with the pureblood prick?

Hermione: He's really not that bad Gin.

Ginny: are you off your trolley?!

last week you were telling me how badly you wanted to hex him

now he's not that bad?

who is this and what have you done with hermione granger

Hermione felt uncomfortable with her friend's judgement of Draco, which was odd considering she'd felt the exact same way last week. It was strange how quickly things had changed…

Hermione: Turns out I may have been wrong. Harry tried to tell me too.

I think Malfoy might actually be trying to do the right thing.

I know, I was shocked too.

Ginny: probably some scheme of his though

i bet the photo ops are doing a lot to bolster his reputation

there's got to be something in it for him

i'd bet my life on it

That Ginny thought this was a publicity stunt made her feel faintly ill; she'd had the same suspicion initially. She felt differently now, but seeing her doubts reiterated by Ginny created a little bubble of concern.

Hermione: I don't know Ginny. I think he's for real this time.

He really wants to help people. I think he finally recognises how messed up the whole idea of "blood purity" is.

Maybe he's just trying to make things right?

Ginny: just don't let him get to you hermione

i know how you love a good cause

exhibit a: your cat

Hermione: Did you just call Draco Malfoy a "good cause?"

Ginny: just don't get attached

and be careful if you shag him

Hermione's cheeks heated in embarrassment.

Hermione:What?!

I don't even know why you'd think of something as outlandish as me shagging Draco Malfoy.

Ginny: you are a grown woman hermione granger

we all deserve a good romp every now and again and you can't deny he's certainly fit

neither of us is blind

how long has it been anyway?

Hermione: We are not having this conversation.

Cheeks still flaming, she tossed her mobile onto the table and ate her flavourless noodles, ignoring the occasional chirp of the device as additional messages from Ginny came in. The idea of herself and Malfoy... it was completely ridiculous; as if she would ever be interested. Regardless, she felt a flutter of excitement below her navel as she recalled how his long fingers had wrapped gently around his quill this afternoon, and the difficulty she'd faced trying to look away from his perfectly shaped lips.

She shook herself — apparently the fumes from the cauldron had been getting to her more than she realised. Finishing her noodles, she returned to the potion room, still a bit flustered, and worked until she could barely keep her eyes open.

Draco had been anxious after Hermione's abrupt exit yesterday. To occupy himself, he'd taken time to review her notes and bring himself up to speed on her progress. The data mining was coming along nicely, and Hermione had isolated several factors that they might be able to use to identify program participants.

The remainder of the day had been unexpectedly lonely without her there; he hadn't realised how much he'd grown accustomed to her company. The relief he'd felt when Hermione had offered to find an antidote was a bit of a shock — but when he thought about it, there really was no one he trusted more to find a solution. He would've tried to find an antidote himself (he had received top marks in Potions and had a top of the line pewter cauldron just sitting at home), but he hadn't tried brewing anything since leaving Azkaban. He wondered what kind of cauldron Hermione was using, and whether he should gift her his — it was just sitting there after all.

After work, he'd gone with Blaise and Pansy to visit Theo at St. Mungo's. The Healer advised that he was still quite weak, so they hadn't stayed long, not wanting to stress his body any more than absolutely necessary. Pansy had broken down sobbing when she'd seen him, smudging her makeup as Theo tried to comfort her with a fragile voice. Blaise said very little (as he often did these days), standing a bit away from them and simply watching with dull, glazed eyes. He needed to spend some time with Blaise after work today to make sure that he was alright; he was well overdue for a check in and had missed his last appointment. Blaise and Theo had been best friends back at Hogwarts, but they'd lost contact when the war broke out and Draco knew that Blaise blamed himself for not being there for Theo. He hoped that Blaise wasn't being too hard on himself, but knew better than to assume. Slytherin loyalty ran deep.

After the difficult visit yesterday, he'd been looking forward to seeing Hermione this morning, but she hadn't arrived to work on time — a very un-Grangerlike thing to do. As the day wore on, he grew more concerned. Had something happened while she was working with potion components? The Gryffindor witch had always lacked a sense of self preservation, especially when it came to gaining particularly rare or dangerous knowledge; he hoped she hadn't gone and blown herself up.

Just as he was debating whether or not he should ask Potter for help — the very concept highlighting how out of sorts he was — she burst into the conference room, in a state of disarray. She looked like she'd flown all the way here and perhaps fallen off the broom a few times on the way. He raised an eyebrow as he took her in — despite her dishevelled appearance, she appeared to be unharmed.

"Accio Latte," he called out, casting wandlessly. The coffee he'd left on Granger's desk earlier that morning came zipping into his hand. He cast a warming spell on it before setting it on the table.

"Is everything alright Granger? You look…" He wasn't sure how to describe her appearance in a polite manner. It truly looked like she'd been through hell and — is that the same set of robes as yesterday?

"Yes, fine, everything is wonderful actually," she said cheerily, attempting to smooth her hair — Draco could tell it wasn't going to make a difference.

As she continued speaking, his attention wavered, distracted by her fingers as she worked a particularly nasty snarl out of her hair. She'd had a breakthrough on the antidote this morning, and had immediately wanted to run a few tests in order to validate its efficacy. Rambling on, she said she hadn't realised the time and apologised for being late. She kept working on the knot in her hair and he was overcome by the urge to help her with it, taking a step towards her before coming to his senses. They may be on friendly terms now, but she certainly wouldn't welcome that kind of attention. He was busy mentally berating himself, when she said:

"I'm quite certain that's the right combination, but of course St. Mungo's won't let us brew it ourselves and bring it in. Regardless, I sent them an owl before I left explaining my findings. If they follow the instructions, the staff should be able to brew an antidote by this evening. It's really quite simple once you've figured it out."

Simple? This witch… Only Hermione Granger would develop an antidote for one of the most dangerous potions in the world (modified into something even more deadly) in less than 24 hours and call it "simple."

He smiled to himself. "Brilliant, Hermione."

"Well, I'm sure they'd have figured it out eventually," she protested modestly, pink suffusing her cheeks.

Merlin, Granger really is quite pretty when she blushes. "Well Theo doesn't have until eventually," he said. "Thank you, Hermione."

Her given name felt strange on his tongue — was it possible he'd never actually said it out loud before? Regardless, he found that he liked how it felt, and liked how she'd blushed even more.

Hermione decided that she would never get used to hearing him say "thank you" or "I'm sorry." The words made her uncomfortable for reasons she couldn't quite explain. And the look he had given her — like she was something marvellous — had made her stomach swoop, despite her better judgement.

Picking up her perfectly heated coffee, she took a long drink, simply to have an excuse to break his gaze. She felt warm in a way that she knew wasn't entirely from the coffee.

Throughout the remainder of the day, her mind continued to wander; she blamed Ginny and her idiotic texts last night. Although, his unexpected praise of her abilities hadn't helped — it had thrown her off balance. Despite her best effort, she found her eyes continually drawn to his hands: when he was thinking, he often leaned forward onto his elbows, folding his hands in front of him, steepling his fingers against his pursed lips. At other times, he absently traced a finger along his jawline: a completely innocent gesture that (thanks to Ginny's meddling) made heat pool in her belly.

She put her indecent thoughts aside; Draco was a perfect gentleman, while she was being entirely unprofessional. Truth be told, she was enjoying their time together. He was an intellectually stimulating partner, and equally driven; she found it refreshing. Their collaboration was going much better than she'd anticipated, and she was quite optimistic about the overall project outlook now that she had worked through her initial misgivings.