"What are you doing here?" Oliver sneered as soon as he noticed Malfoy was holding her hand. Hermione could feel the Slytherin's anger flowing through her, his magic making the palm of her hand tingle. It was a pleasant change compared to the clamminess she was feeling. If anything, the anger that fuelled his magic was cooling her down.

"Escorting Hermione home," Malfoy answered tightly, nearly making her balk at his use of her first name. She'd never heard that come out of his mouth. "As you can see, she is feeling quite under the weather."

Oliver took out his wand and cleaned his shoes and the floor with a quick scourgify. "I can take her from here."

"No. I don't think you will, Wood. What are you doing here in the first place?" Malfoy countered, venom lacing his voice as he shoved the quidditch player out of the way with one arm so Hermione could finally open her door. Malfoy hovered at her back, now grasping her wrist, as if he was ready to shield her in case of an attack. Why was he acting so ridiculous? Malfoy couldn't still be suffering from schoolboy quidditch rivalry, could he?

"Did you poison her?" Oliver suddenly asked, panic in his voice. "Malfoy, I swear-"

"He didn't," Hermione breathed out, happy that her door was finally open and she could leave this mess behind her. "I'm just sick, and Malfoy was kind enough to bring me home after our dinner-"

"Dinner?"

It had been a while since she'd heard Oliver this angry. This… Jealous. If she didn't feel so out of sorts, she would have certainly called him out for that.

"Yes, dinner," she sighed, closing her eyes in frustration. "And what are you doing here, Oliver? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I wanted to talk," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been a while since I've last seen you and-"

"And it will be a while longer because Hermione needs her rest," Malfoy interrupted him, getting all in Oliver's face, his magic sending cooling waves down her arm. "Now leave, Wood. I'm sure you have other witches that are in need of your attention. Or were you planning on using Hermione's bed for your nightly adventures once again? I don't think her wards will let you and whatever tramp you bring in."

The Puddlemere keeper stumbled backwards. "You told him?" Oliver asked in disbelief, betrayal flashing across his face. If Hermione hadn't been feeling so ill, she would have snorted. The audacity of that man to feel betrayed after what he had done to her. "Are you seeing him? Is that why you told him? Why you went out to dinner? Why he is allowed behind your wards?"

Hermione blinked at that. Indeed. Once again, Malfoy was standing inside her flat, on the wrong side of her wards. He had just waltzed through as he'd helped her inside as if her magic and home itself had welcomed him in. He nearly took up the whole doorway, still fronting himself as a safe barrier between herself and Oliver.

"Me and Malfoy are not an item. We just met up for something work-related," Hermione stated, wanting to get rid of at least one of the two men currently tormenting her. "I'm sorry, Oliver. But I really am sick, and Malfoy was kind enough to bring me home after we concluded our business dinner. I still work at the ministry after all, and I also have a seat on the Wizengamot now, so-"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Oliver murmured. "Rumour has it that you-"

"Enough!" Malfoy yelled forcefully, taking Hermione's coat from her as he was glaring daggers at Oliver. "If you want to speak to Hermione, then come back another day. Can't you see that she isn't well? Or have you never learnt to consider her feelings before your own? It wouldn't surprise me if you hadn't, Wood."

"I-"

"Just go, Ollie," Hermione smiled weakly. "Malfoy is right. I'm not feeling up to this right now. I will owl you when I feel better. Alright?"

The quidditch player nodded, and before he could say another word, Malfoy smacked the door in his face, his anger coming out of him in ragged breaths.

"Let me get you a potion to settle your stomach," the blond wizard gritted out, still furious, as he guided her towards her bed in the corner of the room. "I assume you have some in your bathroom?"

Hermione nodded, too tired to argue with him to ask him why he was still there as well. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, she thought as she kicked off her shoes and lay down on her bed, casting a quick scourgify at herself. It's what she'd been doing for months since she was alone. Hermione Granger was not known to require help. She was the caretaker. The people pleaser. Had always been. It was an easy role for her to fit into, even in her past relationships. Not that Ron and Oliver hadn't taken care of her. She was just more used to giving, to taking care, than to being taken care of.

Crooks came running instantly, meowing angrily at whatever yelling had gone on a few minutes ago and cuddled into her side. Hermione closed her eyes for just a second, enjoying the feel of his soft and familiar fur beneath her hands. The tiny little creature that still depended on her purred contently.

"Here, take the potion. I also brought you a pepper-up potion for when you wake up," Malfoy whispered, making her eyes flutter open in surprise.

Had she fallen asleep that fast?

"I'll get you some water."

The blond rummaged through her small kitchen, finding her a glass as Hermione watched him carefully. She saw him open the fridge to grab her some water and store away the food he'd taken with him from the restaurant.

Seemingly aware of her staring at him, he turned to look at her. "You can have my dinner too. I enlarged the food and put a stasis charm on it so you can eat it once you're feeling better."

Malfoy walked back over to her and sat down, silently urging her to take the medicine he'd brought her. He started scratching Crooks behind his ears. "So this little bugger is still around, huh?"

"I'm sorry, do you know my familiar?" Hermione asked incredulously as she swallowed the last bits of the potion.

"Of course, I do," the blond nearly scoffed as Crookshanks stood up and laid down in his lap. Crooks didn't even do that with Harry and they had known each other for years. Only Ginny was allowed in the half-kneazle's presence. "He used to follow me around on my prefect rounds from time to time during fifth year. I didn't know he was yours at the time. He was probably trying to figure out what I was up to so he could warn you and the rest of Dumbledore's Army if we ever got too close to the Room of Requirement. Even then he knew I was trouble."

"That doesn't sound right." Hermione frowned, sleepiness overtaking her as the potion settled in her stomach. "If Crooks thought you were trouble, he would've attacked you."

"Would he? This old man doesn't seem the violent sort," Malfoy wondered, still stroking the half-kneazle's back lazily.

"He doesn't usually like people. The owner of the Magical Menagerie even warned me not to take him. But all it took was one look, and I fell in love." Hermione's eyes fell shut and she listened to her familiar's soft purring.

Malfoy didn't respond, but instead just kept petting Crookshanks. She could imagine him looking around her flat awkwardly, but she was too tired to open her eyes again when he spoke.

"Take care of yourself, alright? We can set up another meeting to discuss the announcement of your candidacy."

She could feel him get up as the weight next to her disappeared. Felt his magic moving closer to the door. Even if she'd seen him at the Ministry from time to time, she never realised how much raw magical power he oozed out if one actually stopped to pay attention to it.

"Mhm," Hermione mumbled, sleep overtaking her. "I'll owl you to set up a time and place. Thank you, for seeing me home. And for… Getting rid of Ollie."

She never did hear Malfoy's response. Maybe he hadn't even acknowledged her gratefulness at all. But that night she dreamt of a familiar blond wizard and an orange cat running through the Hogwarts hallways, chasing her as she beamed with laughter.

Hermione woke with a start, the darkness engulfing her. What time was it? Scratch that. What day was it? She felt like she'd slept the whole weekend away.

Fumbling for her wand on her nightstand, she knocked into something with her hand, making it fall to the ground and break into pieces.

"Shoot," she grumbled as she realised it was the pepper-up potion Malfoy had put there for her.

Finally getting out of bed, she noticed she was still wearing her work clothes. Perhaps she should have thought things through a bit more before she went to bed the previous night. Not that she would've wanted Malfoy of all people to see her in her nightclothes.

"And you, little traitor," she scolded Crooks who was stretching all his tiny limbs once she turned on the light and had vanished the remains of the potion. "I was starting to think Sirius was the sole man you'd ever allow to pet you. But I see he was not the only one you've run through the Hogwarts halls with."

The half-kneazle opened one eye lazily, yawned loudly, and turned around, leaving his mistress to her own thoughts.

Since it was nearing morning, and Hermione had slept for nearly twelve hours straight, she decided to take a hot bath. Luckily, she had a few other pepper-up potions ready in the bathroom and downed one immediately, instantly feeling better.

As she lay in the bathtub, she mused about what had happened yesterday. Malfoy had seemed so… Concerned for her well-being. And she didn't even have to voice her discomfort, he had just noticed she wasn't being her usual self. How strange, considering they had only spoken a handful of times after the war.

When she went back to Hogwarts to get her N.E.W.T.s she had expected to see him there. His presence during her school years had been so constant, yet when she sat down with Ginny at the Gryffindor table that first evening, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She'd later learnt he had gone to Ilvermorny to finish his schooling, a requirement set by the Wizengamot after he and his family had been tried for their crimes during the Second Wizarding War.

His trial was the first time she'd seen him after the battle. He looked pained when his mother received two years of house arrest. Yet he had not batted an eye when his father was confined to Malfoy Manor for the rest of his life. If it had been up to Hermione, that man would have stayed rotting in Azkaban. Perhaps the elder Malfoy's isolation from wizarding society had been what had driven him to give the lordship to his son, she thought.

Back then, the blond wizard, barely a year younger than her stood there, chained to the floor as all of his deeds during the war were laid bare for everyone to see. Only Harry spoke of the good he'd done. How he hadn't betrayed their identity to Bellatrix Lestrange. The one act that could've changed the outcome of the war completely.

"He was just a boy," Narcissa had argued when they were discussing his punishment. "All the mistakes he's made should be on us, his parents. Not on him. Please. Don't blame my son for the choices he's made."

"The Wizengamot understands that your son was still underage, Lady Malfoy," Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt had stated. "But his actions, certainly those in more recent years, are his own. If we sentence your son to Azkaban, then-"

Hermione had gasped out loud at that statement, making the blond look straight at her. Sure, Malfoy had been nothing more than a vile, loathsome, and bigoted bully during their school years. But after the war, and hearing the horrible things Lucius Malfoy had done, she had come to some sort of… Understanding. How growing up with a family like his, would have turned him into the spiteful little boy he was. Besides, like Harry had said, Malfoy had not betrayed them when they were caught and dragged to his home. She even swore that she had seen him trembling in fear when his aunt had been torturing her. Not the actions of a death eater, if you asked her.

Slipping out of the bath, as well as her memories, Hermione lightly towel-dried her hair and decided to make a cup of ginger tea once she left the bathroom. The sun was finally rising, and she basked in the small stream of sunlight that came through her kitchen window when a soft knock could be heard on her door.

Not expecting any company this early in the morning, she peeked through the small opening of her front door. Malfoy was standing there, holding two paper bags in his hand and sporting a nasty bruise on his left cheek.

"Are you going to invite me inside, Granger, or do you enjoy the sight of men waiting at your doorstep like a bunch of idiots?"

Hermione blinked at him twice in confusion, but opened her door further, inviting him in.

"I see you're feeling better." He waltzed into her tiny flat as if he owned the place, shrugging off his long black cloak and draping it over the back of her sofa. "Oh good, you've made tea."

"What's that on your face?" she blurted out as he started opening the paper bags on her kitchen table, filling the room with the smell of freshly baked goods.

His gaze lifted to her slowly and he smirked as he saw her studying his left cheek. Why in the bloody Merlin was it all bruised?

"You should see the other guy."

"Did you get into a fistfight last night after you left?" she hissed at him.

Worrying as she usually did, she walked over to Malfoy and grabbed his chin softly to inspect the damage. Hopefully, it was nothing a quick soothing charm couldn't fix.

"Actually, I got into a fistfight on my way up the stairs just now. Seems like your friend Ollie wasn't as happy to see me here this morning."

"What did you say to him?" She rolled her eyes. Of course, Oliver had to show up again this morning, right as Malfoy had apparently done the same. Could a witch not get some peace and quiet for five minutes?

"He asked me what I was doing here again, and I answered him honestly that I was getting the both of us breakfast while you were having a bath. Which was not a lie. When you didn't answer the door half an hour ago, I assumed you were either asleep or in the bathroom. I was planning to leave the food at the door if you weren't up yet."

"And then?" she sighed, calculating the damage and considering if a simple healing spell would suffice or if she would need to get out a paste against bruising as well.

"And then that bumbling baboon told me to stay away from you."

Hermione frowned as she had Malfoy lean more towards the light. Merlin. His skin was turning purple. "I can decide for myself who I spend my time with or not," she quipped.

"That's what I told him."

Her eyes flickered up to his in surprise, but she could see no emotion there.

"So he hit you?"

"Obviously."

"And… You hit him back?"

He chuckled. "I'm a Malfoy, love. I don't need to use my fists to get my point across. He caught me off guard the first time, but the second time I blasted him into the wall. Let's hope we won't see more of him around here."

"We?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you planning on frequenting my flat?"

"Perhaps. If that is what you would prefer, Granger?" he nearly purred.

She wanted to snatch back her hand from his face, but he grabbed hold of it, keeping her rooted in place.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm just messing with you. I'm here because I wanted to make sure you're feeling better. Besides, if you want to be prepared for the preliminaries and to start gaining supporters and donations, we need to get you ready as fast as possible. I won't throw you to the wolves," he said sincerely now, his eyes soft when he looked at her again.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes in concentration, whispering a wandless healing spell to remove the numbness in Malfoy's cheek.

"When you start teasing me like that, you catch me off guard," she admitted. "All I know is snarky remarks, sneering, and hateful comments when it comes to you. So you being like this it… It throws me off balance."

"Because I'm being nice to you?"

"Among other things. You're not usually nice to people."

"No, I'm not. But then again, people aren't usually nice to me."

He slowly moved her hand away from his cheek, and when she opened her eyes she could see the truth in his. The pain. The loneliness. Nearly a reflection of her own feelings these past few months.

Malfoy cleared his throat and turned his back to her, pouring himself a cup of ginger tea.

As Hermione sat down at her kitchen table, she wondered if he'd ever been as honest with anyone as he'd been with her just now. During their Hogwarts days, Malfoy had always been surrounded by his two goons Goyle and Crabbe. Parkinson would dart around him as well from third year on, but in all of these years, she couldn't remember a single instance of where Malfoy had been surrounded by an actual friend. She'd never seen him smile. Never seen him be… Happy.

She started nibbling on a pain au chocolat the blond had brought with him, her thoughts still racing, when the fireplace lit up.

"Hermione, are you al- Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned around and smirked at her brother, his occlumency walls back up again. His muscles flexed under his gray button-up shirt while he raised his cup of tea at Harry in greeting. "Potter."

Gaping between the two of them like a fish out of water, Harry stammered, "Oliver just came over, told us Malfoy had assaulted him outside of your flat and-"

"Assaulted him?" the blond wizard sneered as he sat down at the kitchen table, shook his head, and started rummaging through the paper bag to find himself a croissant. "When Draco Malfoy goes out of his way to do something nice for a change, like checking up on your sick sister and bringing her breakfast, the whole bloody world thinks it is with malicious intent. He threatened me first. He hit me first. It is not my fault if he got what was coming for him and he-"

"Got what was coming for him? Malfoy, you broke his bloody arm! He won't be able to play in the game tonight because he will need to have his bones re-grown at St Mungo's."

Malfoy shrugged indifferently and started munching on his breakfast. "If he didn't want to feel my anger, he shouldn't have swung his fist at my face. Puddlemere has a good reserve keeper. Better than Wood, in my opinion. If he wants, I can pay him for his lost earnings of the night, and even his visit to St Mungo's-"

"He wants to sue you." Harry frowned as he transfigured one of Hermione's cushions into a chair, joining the pair at the table.

"He can try."

"But-" Harry argued.

"He won't," Hermione interrupted the two men at her side. "I believe Malfoy when he says that Oliver lost control of his emotions and attacked him first. He wasn't too pleased yesterday evening when Malfoy escorted me home, either."

Harry's eyes widened and he looked back and forth between his sister and his childhood nemesis. "Are you two dating?"

Hermione nearly spat her tea in Harry's face but instead started choking on the hot liquid, coughing loudly. "Harry! A man and a woman going out for dinner does not mean that they are in a relationship!"

"Would dating me really be that bad, Granger? After all, I'm incredibly rich, handsome, and-"

"A total prat," she quipped back at him, making Malfoy smirk and wink at her before he sipped his tea again. "As I was trying to say, Harry, Malfoy and I met up for dinner yesterday because he's the one who wants to aid me in my campaign."

"You really want to support her?" her brother asked, looking intently at Malfoy.

"Yes. Is it that hard to believe, Potter?"

Hermione started fidgeting as the two men had a staring match at her kitchen table, neither one of them saying another word while they were seizing each other up. She was about to say something to break them apart, when Harry suddenly said, "No. It isn't hard to believe at all."