Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & co. - just write what could have been. Reviews - thoughts, comments, etc., are always welcomed! Please review - they really do bring a smile to my face :) Shout out to amanduhboss for her kind words & reviews - you're the best!

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Chapter Twenty One

Hermione's body reacted of its own accord. As soon as the Lucius' name left the Wizengamot's member's mouth, Hermione paused to look back at a startled Draco. There was a medley of emotions running through his usually carefully composed face before he placed his habitual mask of indifference back into place. Hermione doubted he even did it consciously now, just another routine for Draco Malfoy to school his feelings into a mask of nonchalance despite that the world he knew crumbling underneath him. She was left behind when Draco bid his goodbye and a short 'apologies' before practically sprinting to the nearest floo exit. She watched his hurried steps and before she knew it, she was following. She didn't know if it was because she had ran from him previously and she felt she owed him or if it was years of running after Harry and Ron that it was instinct for her to run after wounded wizards. Hermione had called out to him, but he didn't seem to hear, and before she knew it, she was in barely lit room in Wiltshire. She heard his strangled voice as he called out "Malfoy Manor!". Hermione didn't waste time chasing after him, barely registering the opulent and posh settings around her. The floo room in this side of the Manor was larger than the one she was accustomed to at Grimmauld Place, it's dark wood and dark wallpaper enveloping the room in cool, darkness. It was meant to allow privacy, but Hermione's fleeting thought before she continued to follow the blond wizard was that it made the entrance seem dreary.

"Draco!"

She half whispered, half yelled to his retreating figure but again, he paid her no mind. She knew a determined mind when she saw one, seeing his look of fiery determination blanket his face before disappearing into his mask. She knew he wasn't ignoring her on purpose, he had a one-track mind. She had seen his look on Harry a multitude of times. Her heels didn't make any noise against the carpet underneath her, rushing past the whispering, nosy portraits; Hermione had thought she had lost him when he turned a sharp corner and when she turned as well, he was gone. There was a pale blue door in her line of sight and currently she was in brightly lit room, completely opposite of the first room Hermione had stepped in. Initially, there was a slight tremor in Hermione if she had irrationally followed Draco unto the foyer she had been tortured in. Relief was short when she realized that he hadn't but she was still in Malfoy Manor – alone. Hermione slowed her steps, hesitantly walking towards the door – where else could he have gone?, she thought to herself. The room she currently found herself in was teal, four French styled chairs surrounding a long, rectangular wooden table. Two, oval shaped, smaller wooden tables were on the opposite ends of the room – one held a vase of red roses and the other had a stack of books and magical magazines. High arched windows allowed the sun to shine through, the white gray curtains pulled back. There was one portrait amongst the moving landscape art. It looked to be some sort of leisure room, but Hermione didn't know whose. The one portrait was a woman of the same hair Draco had, but her eyes were black. The witch appeared to be dressed in pre-industrial clothing, a sneer on her face. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the portrait and luckily, she didn't have to go searching for Draco elsewhere. Soon she heard voices from behind the door and reassurance washed over her, thanking the heavens above and Morganna she hadn't gotten herself lost in Malfoy Manor.

" – are we going to do?"

She heard Draco asking. This is when Hermione picked up her closed hand to knock before entering.

" – Lord title, sign magical documents, complete the… we'll have a private funeral."

Hermione heard a feminine voice reply and it didn't take long to realize she was hearing Narcissa Malfoy's voice. Her knuckles were almost at the door before she heard,

"Why are you acting so bloody nonchalant?! He's your husband!"

From an angry Draco and she was startled to hear the anguish in his voice. She couldn't hear, if, Narcissa replied so Hermione finally knocked, and counted to five before pushing the door to open it. The room inside was larger than the previous room, but it was the same teal color. There was a peach-colored chaise lounge to her right, more flowers on top of smaller tables, and finally a circular, glass table that encompassed Narcissa inside; she was sitting a large, dark gray parsons chair. Hermione was stumped to see the modern table around the Pureblood witch but quickly dismissed the thought; she noticed the sneering portrait was now walking in the background of another portrait – this one with a curly-headed brunette witch – whispering to her, hanging on Narcissa's right side. She couldn't tell the color of Narcissa's eyes from where she was standing but they enlarged before narrowing into suspicion while Draco's remained wide.

"Granger?"

He asked, uncertain as if he was seeing an apparition.

"I'm terribly sorry to intrude, but the floo caught me."

Hermione excused herself lamely, avoiding the questions jumping from Narcissa's eyes and settling on Draco's gray ones. She couldn't help biting the inside of her cheek, trying to appease the anxiety running amuck internally. Draco nodded after a few seconds before walking towards her.

"I'll escort her out, I'll be back, mother."

He said smoothly, as if she hadn't walked in on a familiar matter.

"Just send her out with an elf, Draco."

Narcissa said coldly, turning her head to look out one the high arched window to her left. Hermione didn't react to the Malfoy matriarch's action – she had intruded in a very private meeting. However, Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione had to stop herself from laughing at their actions. Despite Narcissa's objections to politeness, Draco's manners were still his own.

"I'll be back."

He said with finality, closing the space between them in three long strides and opened the door to stand beside her; his hand found its way to the small of her back. Hermione was growing accustomed to the Purebloods rigid ways so she didn't protest – for now and in front of Narcissa. Hermione saw as Narcissa watched their minor interaction through her peripheral and the brunette witch quickly looked away when she almost caught her eye. He dropped his hand when the door closed behind her and led the way, Hermione falling back. The way back to where they had stepped out of the floo from was much longer as both wizard and witch weren't in a hurry.

"I'm sorry for following."

Hermione said after a few moments of stifling silence. Draco stopped, being a few steps ahead of her and shook his head, some blond strands falling to hover above his stormy orbs.

"Don't apologize, Granger."

He scolded and Hermione frowned at his tone. She knew she shouldn't take it personally, but that didn't mean she hadn't.

"Unless you have nefarious motives on why you have broken into my ancestral home and listened in on a conversation."

Draco said and Hermione's mouth opened in shock but quickly closed when she saw his smirk.

"You prat."

She half-joked, smiling gently at him. He shrugged, now falling into step with her as the continued their way. Now with more time to look, Hermione saw the random familiar portraits staring at them, the seemingly random, small decorative tables, and landscape art. The soft colored carpet beneath them didn't allow much noise to be heard and Hermione wondered if the carpet was a new addition as she noticed the wood in the previous room; Harry and Theo's homes didn't have many carpeted floors either, they utilized a lot of rugs.

"I'm sorry for not realizing you were behind me. I should have at least escorted you to Theo and Blaise."

Draco apologized, interrupting Hermione's train of thought about his family home's décor; his words were barely above a whisper. Hermione shook her head, this time her stopping now as she placed her left hand on his left arm. She hesitated at first, but decided since they were friends, she could offer him some support.

"Draco, don't apologize for reacting to awful news about your father."

She said, looking up at him as he stared down at her hand. Hermione didn't know why, but her words and touch seemed to soften the wizard before her. When he looked back to her, there was a calculating look in his eyes as if he was translating runes instead of looking at her. In this new territory where Hermione Granger was friends with Draco Malfoy, Hermione was glad she wasn't the only trying to figure out their friendship

"I figured you of all people would be having a celebration from the news."

He confessed to her. Eye contact dropped with his words, a small tightness forming in Hermione's throat. Hermione let her hand fall, both hands finding each other as she squeezed them together before responding.

"While he wasn't on the right side of the War."

She started to say, watching as her words made the blond stiffen. It was intriguing to see him straighten up, grounding his teeth together to emphasize his jawline, the skin tightening around his eyes to make them appear smaller.

"I'm not happy about the news, Draco. The Kiss is worse than death, I wouldn't wish that on anyone besides Greyback."

She finished, finding his arm once again, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting her hand fall once more. After a few seconds of letting her response sink in, he nodded, starting to walk once more. But Hermione could see he had relaxed once more – his posture was less rigid; his hands weren't balled up into fists.

"Tell Theo and Blaise sorry for not making it for me, will you?"

He asked, finally stopping at the doorway that led to the luxurious, dark room once more. Hermione internally winced, stepping towards the large fireplace. It was big enough to allow four people floo in and out comfortably.

"I was actually planning on going back to my office and eating there."

She sheepishly said, brushing a stray curl out of her face to tuck behind her ear. She turned to look back at him, seeing the glare from Draco. He looked more like Hogwarts Draco then – hands in his trouser pockets, glaring at her with all his might and height.

"Merlin's saggy balls Granger, go eat with them."

He snapped. Hermione scoffed at his choice of colorful words.

"I have a lot of work to finish –"

"Which you can finish after your lunch with them."

He interrupted.

"I'd rather finish it sooner."

She responded.

"Being an hour behind won't kill you."

"Malfoy –"

"Oh back to Malfoy are we?"

He once again interjected. Hermione was now glaring at him before he sighed, visibly deflating from their bickering. He brought one hand out from his pocket and stepped towards her.

"Have lunch with me at my home."

Draco propositioned to her. Her brows crinkled in confusion at his question, her left hand held her hip at some point in their argument while the other was balled up at her side.

"Here?"

She asked couldn't help the incredulous tone that left her. Hermione let her hand release itself and her left hand fell from her hip.

"No, this isn't my home. Since you're already out and about and you need nourishment which I'm sure the sad ministry cafeteria cannot provide, have lunch with me at my home."

Draco said.

"This isn't your home?"

She couldn't help to ask.

"Is that a yes?"

He questioned back, stepping even closer to her personal space. Hermione rolled her eyes but realized she didn't particularly mind him practically looming over her. Up close she could tell his tell-away signs of nervousness better. Currently, he was pressing his pressing his fingers against his palm as she often did.

"It's not a no."

She said softly back after staring at his hand. Once more, she found herself flooed away. Draco didn't hesitate this time to lead the way to their lunch as his free hand went to hold onto her wrist, leading the way back the giant fireplace. Hermione barely missed a small smile that framed his lips and she couldn't help but to think he looked nice when smiling. He's always so serious, unless drunk. Hermione couldn't help to think about the small smile of Draco Malfoy. This time when Hermione stepped out, she noticed her surroundings were less extravagant but much more antique. Draco led a couple more steps with his cold hand around her wrist before dropping it.

"Accio mobile."

Draco said as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. Hermione watched befuddled a silver cellphone whizzing towards him. He caught it swiftly and began clicking on the keys before it.

"You have a mobile?"

She asked, even more interested than seeing his mother in a modern, muggle furniture. Furniture, fashion, was one thing, but technology was a different story. If a magical person didn't want to, they didn't have to, it was just an easier, faster way of communication. Muggle technology required patience and time to learn and fully function. He's changed.Hermione thought.

"It's handy."

Was all he said before began to speak in French. Hermione watched him for a couple of moments, still trying to piece together that the Malfoy heir wore muggle clothing and used muggle technology before turning her attention to her surroundings. Hermione assumed he was ordering food from a fancy French restaurant and while she knew some French, she wasn't fluent. The room they were in was different from the floo room in the Manor; this room was bright, the heavy looking curtains pulled back to allow the sunlight in. There was a large bookcase covered in vary of build of books, a French style chair besides it and a small side, metal table besides the chair. Besides that, there was no other furniture. The floors beneath here were a light-colored wood and there was a dark blue rug in front of the fireplace. The two medium sized windows were oval in shape. There was one still life which Hermione found familiar but couldn't place where she had seen it before; the same blonde portrait of the sneering ancestor – Hermione assumed – and her curly headed friend stared at the pair. Odd that they followed us. Hermione thought to herself. After studying the room, she then walked towards one of the windows, and then quickly turned back to him. He wasn't lying – he seemed right at home amongst the soft gray walls, the fleur de lis wallpaper with 'M''s around, and 17th century furniture.

"You brought me to France?!"

The smirk on the blond Pureblood was the only indication that he heard her before continuing to speak French on his silver phone.

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Pansy knew how she ended up in a certain witch's bed, placing soft kisses on that certain witch's inner thighs; one owl delivered note pleading to Pansy, the jet-black haired witch found herself in Daphne's bed. Pansy didn't bother to relish in Daphne's apologies about why she was doing what she was doing. The only thing that mattered coming from her lips where the words, "I'm calling it off." And that's when Pansy enthusiastically claimed Daphne's lips and body. Hours later, Pansy slowly made her way through, still kissing her way up, lazily letting her fingers brush against the witch's stomach. Pansy finally made her kissed way path through capturing Daphne's lips with her own. Licking the blonde witch's bottom lip, the two entertained themselves with passionate kisses before Daphne pulled away to breath.

"I missed you."

She exhaled while playing with the strands of the short, black hair. Pansy didn't let her gaze linger on Daphne's face as she let her head lay in the crook of the taller witch's neck. She continued stroking Daphne's stomach, inhaling deeply the scent that was purely Daphne Greengrass.

"I know."

She whispered back. After more than fifteen minutes of peaceful, postcoital moments, Daphne kissed the top of Pansy's head before disentangling their limbs. Pansy didn't watch as the blond witch adorned her naked body with a pale green bathrobe. Pansy contently continue to lay unclothed on Daphne's soft cotton sheets, closing her eyes.

"Pans, you can't stay."

Daphne interrupted the few minutes of tranquility that washed over the black-headed witch. Pansy's eyes opened, violet looking up at hazel ones as Daphne hovered over her.

"Why not?"

Pansy asked, a smile playing on her lips. She assumed Daphne was teasing her, knowing she'd love to stay and go for another round. Daphne leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her lips before retreating and heading off towards her vanity.

"Avery is coming over."

Daphne said to her reflection as she sat down on the faux ceramic bowl chair. The blonde witch started applying glamor charms to her neck where Pansy's marks where appearing. Pansy stiffened automatically, the euphoria leaving her body coldly at the mention of Daphne's current fiancée.

"I thought you were calling it off."

Pansy said through gritted teeth. If what Daphne had previously said was true, there was no reason for Arlo Avery to be visiting Daphne in the confines of her home, especially if they had a prior engagement. Daphne should have been making an excuse to not see him and continue to have her dalliance with Pansy, not the exact opposite. Daphne didn't answer and that was an answer in itself. Pansy quickly stood up, finding her clothes crumbled by the large, four poster bed; she started redressing herself in her white pencil skirt and sleeveless, off-white blouse. Pansy was almost done strapping her last heel over her ankle before Daphne stood in front of her, arms crossed, defensive as if she were hurt by Pansy's outburst. Pansy internally rolled her eyes at the sight.

"I am! I just haven't found the right time."

Daphne said. Pansy adjusted her hair, looking past Daphne and her now, unwrapped robe, revealing the body Pansy was previously latched on; she looked over the tall witch's figure unto the mirror, acting as if her hair was of the most importance. She didn't know if Daphne had unrobed herself on purpose, but Pansy couldn't find it in herself to care. Once again, Pansy had to shove her pesky feelings down when it came to the eldest Greengrass daughter.

"Whatever, Greengrass. Don't owl me next time you're looking for a pleasurable shag, owl Avery."

Pansy coldly stated before reaching for her wand on the besides table, disapparating away as soon as her fingertips touched the wood.