Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & co. - just write what could have been :) Please review! Reviews are always nice; I'd like to hear your thoughts on this fic :)

Chapter Seven

Hermione had walked in through her flat door ten minutes before 6 PM. She wasn't late to her own dinner plans, but Hermione was rarely late to anything – unless it involved Harry Potter. Sighing in relief that Harry hadn't appeared yet, she made her way to her fridge to see if she had anything she could make for dinner. She wasn't a wiz in the kitchen, but Hermione could make simple dishes; she thought her vodka pasta was the most edible out of all her attempts. Hermione reached for her scarf to pull it off and placed it on the kitchen counter close to the sink. Before rummaging through her refrigerator, she needed to feed Crookshanks. Reaching up towards the light brown cabinet door, she opened it. On the second shelf, she reached for the can food, the dry kibble, and the vitamins she fed her half-Kneazle. Placing the can, medium-sized paper bag, and a bottle down, she closed the door, then squatted, picking up the bright blue porcelain bowl off the floor she fed Crooks in. He picked where he wanted to eat every day; sometimes it was besides the cabinet doors, sometimes by the door, sometimes by the couch. He was patiently waiting for her, she noticed, as he sat on the other side of her, on top of the island.

"I'm going."

She said to him. She opened the canned, wet food, no longer registering the fishy smell it omitted, before opening a smaller door besides the first cabinet door she opened. It contained all her utensils and Crookshanks own. She reached into a glass cup labeled, "Crookshanks" and retrieved a metal spoon. She closed the door and used the spoon to scoop out all the brown, wet food. Then she mixed half a cup of dry food with it in the bowl – eyeballing the measurements. Satisfied with the mixture, Hermione opened the vitamin bottles and added the bone and joint, vision, and digestion pills into the mix. Finally, leaving the materials where she started, she turned around to place the bowl in front of her pet. He meowed once before digging in. Stroking his ears, Hermione liked to think it was his way of saying "thank you" or "about time" depending on his mood. She then turned to clean up the slight mess she always made when feeding Crooks; while she could do it all magically, with minimal mess, there was just something more endearing to her about feeding her half-cat the muggle way. Finally done cleaning, everything back in place besides the dirty spoon now in her sink, she turned to the refrigerator. She opened the refrigerator, the cold metal underneath her palm making her shiver; she was still cold from her quick errand and her warming charm was long gone. Pursing her lips as she saw her almost empty fridge, besides a milk carton, a few apples and bananas, and a couple of yogurt cups. There was a loud pop! and Hermione turned to face her grinning best friend. He landed right in front of the island, messy headed as ever. She couldn't help but to smile at him. The orange pet currently dining didn't even look up from his food. She closed the fridge's door as she walked towards him. Embracing Harry, a young man she thought as her brother, always made Hermione feel better.
"Hey 'Mione."

He said brightly, hugging her back tightly. After a couple of seconds, Hermione let go to smack her best friend on his arm.

"Hey!"

He exclaimed but there was a brightness in his eyes and a smile that threatened to spill.

"Harry James Potter, what in Godric Gryffindor made you think of sending Nott and Zabini last night!"

Harry couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips. He rubbed his hand on the back of his head, but Hermione guessed it was all for show.

"'Mione don't act like you didn't have a good time with those two."

Hermione scowled at him, crossing her arms but didn't disagree. Harry smiled.

"They're quite the conversationalists and quite fit."

Harry winked at her causing Hermione's face to flush. She gaped slightly at his teasing before she reached to smack him again, but he quickly avoided and walked towards her fridge. His long limbs allowed him to quickly reach the cold machine while Hermione forced her blush to recede. While she didn't outwardly agree with Harry, he wasn't wrong either. All the men around her, it seemed, grew into themselves. Just a hint of awkward youth still hanging around their persons.

"Let's get take-out, yeah?"

He said, closing the fridge door and changing the subject. He started to pet Crookshanks neck as he continued eating, purring at the attention. Hermione turned her body to look at him, nodding.

"Yeah, I don't have anything anyways. What were you thinking?"

"Indian?"

Hermione couldn't help but to smile – she loved curry. Not to mention she only had coffee and a yogurt for breakfast and forgo lunch.

"Oh yes, lets!"

She nodded enthusiastically and reached for her scarf. Harry was already dressed – still in D.L.M.E uniform – and he eyed her outfit while briefly glancing at the flowers besides the island. He didn't mention them as he asked,

"Where's your coat? It's chilly out."

"Oh I forgot it at Nott's last night. I already owled him so he should return it soon, I suspect."

Hermione said, taking out her wand to point it at her scarf. The scarf transformed into an acceptable thick coat; Hermione slipped it on, smaller than her peacoat but definitely warmed than she would have been. Harry nodded and walked towards her, offering his arm so they could apparate.

"See ya', Crooks."

Harry said at the still dining half-cat, half-kneazle before apparating. Landing a block away from Hermione's favorite muggle Indian restaurant half-way across town, in a dark alley, they made the rest of their way on foot. The cloudy day allowed for little sunshine and Hermione was glad Harry hadn't taken his arm back. While she could cast a warming charm over them, the walk wasn't far. Harry placed his hand on top of Hermione's, noticing her shivering to offer some warmth. Hermione smiled up at him gratitude.

"Speaking of Slytherins, Malfoy came to visit me today."

Hermione didn't stop but her brow furrowed. Almost ten feet away from the restaurant.

"Oh? What for?"

She asked.

"You."

He answered. The pair had reached the restaurant and Harry opened the door for Hermione. Hermione couldn't help her curiosity, quickly eyeing the semi-busy food establishment. There was a sign as soon as they entered stating to wait to be helped and seated. Around them Hermione smelled the amazing aroma any ethnic food offered, and she looked around at the mismatched seating arrangements and the worn décor.

"Me?"

She asked, looking back up at Harry as she slipped off her coat. Harry helped her then helped himself, slipping off his black cloak. They both held their own as they continued to wait.

"Yes apparently he wants to make amends for his atrocious behavior at school."

Hermione didn't respond instead her mind wandering to the flowers sitting in her home at the moment. First the flowers now visiting Harry. Hermione laughed out loud.

"A bit much."

She said, mostly to herself.

"What do you mean?"

Harry asked. He looked down at her, his height giving him that advantage, his eyebrows quirking up.

"Well he sent flowers apologizing for his behavior last night at Nott's. Now he's coming to you for advice to apologize for being a childhood bully. I just think it's a bit much. He could just apologize."

Harry shrugged, raising his hand slightly when an employee noticed them.

"I don't think it's a bit much. He was horrid and would you really believe his apology if he just came and said it?"

Harry asked before starting to speak with the tall, dark skinned, long haired girl that wore a colorful apron over her simple clothes. Hermione couldn't help her frown that formed, knowing Harry was right. She would probably would have dismissed Malfoy and his supposed apology, only feeling a little guilty if he did seem genuine. Not because she held a grudge against him, but because she simply didn't think he truly cared. She didn't like him at Hogwarts, but after the War and his trial, Malfoy rarely reached her thoughts. Hermione had her own personal life to tend to without burying into the gossip of the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly. She did see his mother on the front pages of the Daily Prophet, but she rarely heard news of him. Hermione didn't think twice about it; she suspected the Malfoy Heir stayed in the shadows or tired, as she tried. She had seemingly forgotten about the blond Pureblood – up until yesterday. Hermione absentmindedly followed Harry and the girl towards a booth as she remembered the smirking blond looking up at her yesterday. He was increasingly consuming her thoughts and that irked Hermione. Sliding into the old booth and placing her coat besides her, Hermione didn't bother to look at the plastic menus placed in front of them.

"Do you think he means it?"

She couldn't help but to ask her best friend. Usually, she would reserve her insecurities to Ginny, but she was out of the country and Hermione didn't think this was important enough to warrant a floo call. Before Malfoy could her plague her thoughts more, Hermione needed some clarity. Harry had his teal-colored menu in hand, looking through it before he shrugged. His eyes didn't look up.

"Malfoy doesn't seem the type to do something unless he wants to. I doubt his mum, hell even his dad, are forcing him to make amends with you, 'Mione."

At the mention of his parents, Hermione couldn't help her brow to furrow. Maybe his parents were pushing for some sort of publicity stunt. Hermione once again pursed her lips, trying not to scoff at the sight of her and Malfoy posing for the cameras. While she didn't want to think of Narcissa Malfoy asking her son of such a thing, she didn't know her well enough to defend her. Hermione knew she would do anything for her son and asking to apologize, perhaps even befriend, a well-known Muggle-born wasn't out of the realm of possibilities. She couldn't think the same about Lucius Malfoy; she would certain he had not trouble forcing his son for anything that helped the Malfoy name in his eyes. Forcing a smile on her lips and leaning into the worn faux leather of the booth, Hermione responded,

"Perhaps."

[-]

Pansy sighed softly, leaning against the brick building with an Argus C3 Matchmatic in her hands. She was still wearing her current outfit she originally saw Draco in and slightly regretted it. Her feet were starting to ache after a day of a cushioning charm applied and the bright color she chose for her pantsuit was not a discreet one. While she often didn't take her own photos, the photographer assigned to her section of the Evening Prophet was out today. That left Pansy waiting for the current hot topic of the gossip column she worked at – Arlo Avery – to come out of the rumored engagement shop in Diagon Alley. Pansy was assigned to write about the lovechild left behind from a Death Eater – Wayland Avery. While it wasn't shocking that the Death Eaters left behind children – Nott being one of a few – it was shocking that Wayland Avery left behind a Half-Blooded son. When the Avery Heir came to London, all the news reporters were on the young, smart dressed, and nice-looking man. Oppose to his brooding, blood purity maniac father, Arlo was pleasant and polite, earning him many fans. People were easy to win over when a war was just won and everyone was trying to move on. The next issue of the Evening Prophet would show the bachelor currently soon to be wed, if Pansy was lucky. A happy distraction from the Death Eater trials that consumed the first pages. Pansy suspected she was also assigned this topic due to her own Death Eater ties. While she was close to obtaining her own Dark Mark – she was supposed to get the tattoo after the War – she luckily never did. Her own father wasn't marked either, thrusting his eldest and only daughter into the hands of the Dark Lord for one thing only – power. This allowed Pansy to have a ministry job and thus, Pansy's subject had her hiding in the shadows tailing after him. Pansy's thoughts were interrupted at the ringing of the bell from the store door Avery had went in, camera steady in her hand, but never reaching above her chin when Avery did not appear. Instead, a leggy, dark blonde witch came out, a bright blue beret on her long, wavy hair that Pansy sneered at. The witched wore a light gray cloak over her bright blue dress robes, reminding Pansy of the Beauxbatons students that visited Hogwarts her fourth year. Attempting to retreat herself back into the shadows, Pansy thought she was in the clear but when the blonde disapparated and apparated in front her. Pansy swallowed the scream that threatened to escape. She forced herself to not look as surprised as she felt, she honestly thought she hid herself better than allowing her to see her. Apparently, her disillusioning charm needed work. The taller witch stared down at Pansy; Pansy glared back, internally glad she wore her tall heels so she wouldn't appear as short as she truly was – especially not now. After a couple of suffocating seconds while Pansy discreetly reaching for her own wand on her right cloak pocket, the blonde visibly softened. She leaned into the dark-headed witch, reaching for her cheek with a gloved hand. Warm hazel eyes looked into dark violet ones.

"Pansy."
She whispered and immediately, Pansy stepped back. Away from the witch, away from the intimate gesture.

"Greengrass."

Daphne Greengrass' plain face fell, turning into an ugly shade of pink as she also took a step back. The taller witch had small nose and light freckles if you looked close enough, but besides that, she was a plain face. She wasn't ugly but she wasn't as beautiful as society had deemed her younger sister. She made motions seemingly straightening her gray cloak, picking off some lint. Pansy wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her actions; always the quick one to pretend her words didn't affect her even though they clearly did – even though she failed horribly, unlike Pansy.

"Why are you following Arlo?"

Daphne asked after a quick sniff, holding her hands in front of her. Pansy rose one perfectly trimmed eyebrow, letting the Ministry camera fall from her left hand, letting it hang from her neck.

"Fallen so low as to mingle with Half-Blood bastards, Greengrass?"

Pansy let the insult slip from her tongue so easily despite not truly meaning it. However, she wasn't going to let guard down – not anymore – around the eldest Greengrass daughter. She had to force the façade in front of Longbottom and Granger, forcing another one in front of Daphne had become as easy as curling her hair. Daphne's face formed of one of curiosity, stepping again closer to look at Pansy. This time Pansy did not step down as she continued to stare up. Again, after silencing seconds, Daphne looked down. She bit on her bottom lip. Pansy forced herself to not reach into her as she had done many times before, trying to soothe whatever ailed the blonde witch.

"He's my fiancée."

Daphne finally confessed; a whisper wisped away into the cold air. Pansy froze instantly and a sneer formed on her usual pretty face out of habit. While Pansy didn't want to ask, she certainly did not want to be having this conversation with her of all people, she couldn't help herself. The words were rushing out of her before she could stop them.

"Hendrich's allowing his eldest to marry a Half-Blood?"

Pansy whispered dangerously low. Her blood was boiling, she was seeing red.

"He thought it was best for one daughter to marry outside the twenty-eight while the other married within – for publicity's sake."

Daphne answered, sorrow in her tone but her eyes glued to the ground. Pansy laughed, hard and cold, leaning in even more to the taller witch. Their chests brushed, forcing Daphne to look at her. More than ever, Pansy wanted to entwine the blond into her arms, but she had to force those feelings aside. She had at least some restraint. Pansy smirked, mirthlessly.

"Draco's not going to marry Tori, Daphne. I suggest you tell daddy dearest so he can re-consider your engagement."

She saw the confusion that masked her face – lovely in Pansy's opinion – but didn't drop her façade. Before Pansy could do anything she would definitely later regret, she quickly turned and disapparated from the alleyway. Not waiting for a series of question, the dark-headed witch forced herself to think of her friend's current home and then rethinking at the last minute. She could hear her name on Daphne's lips before leaving. Appearing at Nott's manor once more, the gravel crunching again underneath the steps she took, she knocked loudly. Internally fuming and trying to reign in anger, Pansy couldn't help but to think to herself. How dare she. How dare he. She silently thought.

"Pans?"

Theo answered the door, dressed casually in light blue oxford and dark gray trousers. His brown hair was in disarray as he had been mussing it. Theo looked curiously at her.

"It's my turn to drink myself into stupor, Nott."

Was all she said before she rushed in. Leaving a boggled Theo in the doorway before he could ask if she had had dinner first.