AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 29

Hermione walked towards the kitchens, when she saw a familiar head of black hair in the distance, heading into the Slytherin common room. She quietly followed the person and slipped into the common room without notice.

"You didn't go to Hogsmeade?"

Severus quite literally jumped, "Mother of Merlin! Hermione!"

"Hello, Severus."

"Why are you here?"

She pointed to the snake embroidered crest on her robe, "Slytherin, remember?" She walked past him, set down her bag to the floor, and opened up some homework.

Severus quietly walked around her, awkwardly trying to talk to her.

"How could you dance with Sirius Black?"

"That's the first thing that you're going to ask?" Hermione deadpanned. "Nice to know what your priorities are."

"Get real, Hermione. What are you expecting? An apology from me?"

Hermione knew that Severus assumed he lost because of her 'sabotaging' his win, but the reality was that he broke the rules to win a losing fight. He would have lost regardless of her intervention.

She sighed, "I expect nothing from you, Severus."

She unrolled a scroll of parchment and started working on her Potions homework.

Severus glared at her, getting even more upset at her response. He'd wanted her to ask for his forgiveness, he wanted her to beg him for it, he wanted her to reassure him that she wasn't siding with the Marauders like every other bloody person in the castle. Her lackluster response was infuriating.

"Have you spoken with Alphard lately?" She asked cautiously. She didn't know if Severus knew of Alphard's illness. While he would never admit to it, Alphard had become an important figure in his life. Maybe not so much a father, but male authority he could look up to, respect, and strive towards.

"Why?" Severus asked. "He's been sending me owls pretty frequently, but I'm still trying to get used to the fact that he's my prof as well as my mom's boyfriend. I don't want him to invade my life more than he already has."

"Severus, he's not invading your life," Hermione argued. "Are you seriously so immature that you can't tell the difference between positive and reaffirming support versus invasion of privacy and boundaries?"

"Of course, you take his side. You take everyone's side but mine."

His childish idiocy and ridiculousness left Hermione speechless. How did this child become a man who was clever enough to become a double spy during both Wizarding Wars?

He's also the man that let his childhood schoolyard trauma justify his bullying of children for God knows how long.

The fact that Severus threw a spell at her sister still made her livid and the fact that he was too prideful to properly apologize infuriated her even further, but he was Severus Snape. If he found out about Alphard too late…she couldn't imagine how much it would damage him.

"Talk to Alphard. This is not about you or me or the fucking Marauders. Alphard has something important to say."

"Yeah," Severus scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

She clenched her jaw as he walked away.

"Talk to him!" She called after him, but the Slytherin common room door closed. She looked down at her Potions homework, then rubbed her temples from stress. Writing lame essays about Wit-Sharpening Potion was the last thing she wanted to do, but with Alphard in the school as a staff member, she didn't want to be so laissez-faire about her grades anymore. The looks he gave her made her feel ashamed at her lack of effort.

With a sigh, she collected her parchment paper and dipped her quill in ink once more.

"Just fucking do it, Hermione."

Several hours passed, Hermione dotted her last i and dashed her last t. She glanced at her finished Potions essay, it was better than most of her other assignments. Although she knew it deserved an E at least, Slughorn was going to give her an Acceptable since he graded based on his biases against the student. She sighed as she stretched her arm to grab the essay off the coffee table and messily scribbled her name on the top then shoved it back into her bag.

Thanks to Hogsmeade weekend, the common room was empty while the younger year students were in their dorms either sleeping or avoiding her.

In the rare moment of peace in the Slytherin den, she took a moment to look around her common room. She had no fond memories attached to this room, but she had to admit its luxuriousness. Befitting most of the Slytherins' lavish ways of life, the common room was exquisitely decorated with black tiles that glowed green from the lake as emerald light twinkled from the furniture details and silver glimmered from the finishings. It was beautiful.

With the entire common room to herself for the first time, Hermione kicked off her shoes and laid on the long leather sofa. It was shockingly comfortable. More comfortable than the overstuffed sofas in the Gryffindor common room.

"Money sure is nice." She wiggled to get comfy and sighed, the fireplace was crackling, and the rest of the castle's groaning sounds were muffled by the surrounding Black Lake.

With potion ingredients, sentence structure, and her many other problems slowly slipping out of her mind, her overactive brain trailed back to a certain boy and a certain kiss. It'd been running around in her mind several times a day. Distracting her. Seducing her.

She quickly shook her head.

"It was nothing."

"What was."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked at the owner of the voice only to jump again. "Merlin's beard, Black." The person standing at the entrance of the Slytherin common room looked so much like the person she was thinking about that she needed to do a double-take. She sighed in relief when she recognized the Slytherin snake embroidery on the left breast of the sweater vest he wore.

"You scared the shite out of me." She told Regulus Black. He stood at the entrance of the common room, but he'd entered without a detectable sound, even with her sensitive ears. He was tall for his age, might even become taller than Sirius in the future, but just as handsome.

Walburga Black may be an unimaginable bitch, but she certainly made some beautiful children.

Although he didn't show it, Regulus was equally surprised by her presence in the common room at this time. His brow raised infinitesimally at her sigh of relief and her lax posture.

Hermione watched the changes in his microexpressions, with a sense of amusement. He was offended that she wasn't scared of him. She supposed it was understandable, he was a Black, one of the most feared and prestigious families in the Wizarding World.

"You're not welcome in the common room; you should know that." He calmly explained but didn't bother kicking her out. Instead, he sat down on the sofa across from her and pulled out his homework.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend and you're doing homework?" She asked, peeking over the coffee table.

Unlike his loud and boisterous counterpart, Regulus was quiet and reserved. He had the same air of arrogance as Sirius and the rest of the Blacks, but on the rare occasion she'd seen him laugh, it was like looking into a mirror of a 13-year-old Sirius.

Hermione tried to interact with him on several occasions over the years but found it difficult. She didn't know the moody and vulnerable teenage Regulus Black. She knew him as R.A.B., an unsung hero and brave man who did the right thing in the end. That was the problem, she only knew his end. Even if she wanted to help him, change his fate, she didn't know his life enough to know what events ended up as turning points, what made him decide Voldemort was wrong?

"Want help?"

He scoffed at the thought. "You don't take Arithmancy."

"I'm surprised you know what courses I take."

"It was a guess, I mean, why would the school's dumbest student take one of the hardest courses provided by the school?"

She gave him a very pointed look. "Your class must be very behind if you're still on the principal rules of numbers." She commented casually, to which Regulus replied by quickly flipping to the correct page of his homework, further into the book.

Despite her internal enjoyment at watching his very mildly panicked reactions, she decided to give him a moment to actually work on his assignment by lying back down on the long sofa and staring up at the black ceiling. The tiles had tiny specks of reflective stone that twinkled like stars in the sky. To pass the time, she connected some of the speckles like they were actual constellations that could be seen in the winter night sky.

Regulus looked up from his paper to notice her index finger pointed up to the ceiling, drawing something in the air. She had a far-off look in her eyes, it was the most unguarded he'd ever seen her.

Like she could sense his gaze, she turned her eyes right back to him.

Fuck. She'd caught him staring.

"What are you still doing here? Don't Mudbloods know social cues? Can't you tell I want to do this homework in private?" he blurted out. He fiercely looked down at his paper, trying to focus on the words and numbers in front of him, but was unnerved by her eyes. Although he turned his head away in less than a second, it was like her eyes had a peek into his soul. She had that ability about her, she never just looked at you, no, she looked at you.

"If you desired privacy, then you shouldn't have done your homework in the common room." Hermione pointed out. "Are you stuck? Do you want some help?"

She threw her legs off the sofa and used the momentum to sit up. Her hair flung in the air. Regulus expected to get a swift of her shampoo, but instead, he smelled nothing. Was it possible for someone to smell like nothing at all? She leaned forward, her hair falling like a curtain between them. He still smelled nothing. Nothing at all.

"Did you just sniff me?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about and don't need your help. You don't even take the course!"

Hermione pulled her long hair up to her nose and sniffed, making sure she didn't stink.

"I didn't sniff you!" Regulus blurted out, panicked that she would take it the wrong way. He was a Black! He did not go around sniffing dirty mudbloods!

"Okay," Hermione put her hands up in surrender, dropping her hair back down, but kept her eyes on the younger Black. He was denying a bit too passionately for her to believe him, but she was sure she didn't smell like anything, she made sure of it every hour. It'd become a habit for her to erase her scent because she was afraid that Remus would be able to recognize her scent during the full moon when she was a fox. But in this situation, maybe the lack of a smell was the problem; no one smelled like nothing. She decided it was better for the both of them if she moved on.

"I may not take Arithmancy, but you don't take muggle studies, yet you seem to know enough about aeroplanes to draw them with such accuracy." She stated, eyes traveling to a doodle at the margins of his textbook. Hermione's vast vault of knowledge didn't include aeroplane models but could tell from the details that it was old, like something she'd seen in a history book for WWII.

Regulus quickly covered the drawing with his hand as his eyes widened. "How dare you look at my paper! Your audacity disgusts me, Mudblood!"

His poor attempt to cover his embarrassment made Hermione want to roll her eyes, the drawing was well done and all she'd done was compliment it. "My point is, we both acquired knowledge from outside a classroom, but that doesn't mean we know less. I can help you if you're willing to accept it."

Regulus scoffed in disbelief. "Knowing how to draw this silly muggle contraption versus knowing the magical properties of magic is a completely different level of expertise."

"Numerology and Grammatica by L. Wakefield and M. Carneiro, respectively. On page 83 of Numerology, the chapter of the famous Bridget Wenlock starts by describing her findings on the magical properties of the number seven. This is precisely why Hogwarts has seven floors, and 17 is the age witches and wizards turn adults, instead of the customary 18 like the muggle world. It's also widespread knowledge that many of history's finest magical folk have seven syllables for their full names."

Hermione lifted her hand in the air, "Re-gu-lus Arc-tur-us Black" she counted. "Wow, seems like you're destined for greatness."

His eyes went from his book to her eyes in silent shock, but he quickly regained his cool by replacing his shocked expression with a smirk.

"You do realize that you just admitted I'm more superior than you, even by name. Her-mi-o-ne Kat-lin E-vans. That's eight." He counted with his fingers. "See? My parents named me with a more powerful name than you." He puffed up his chest and smirked down at her.

Hermione noted in amusement at the way he childishly celebrated his own importance. "How do you know my middle name?" She asked, leaning forward once again trying to get a better look at his blushing face. "Regulus, do you have a crush on me?"

"What?! No! Malfoy told—" he cut himself off abruptly, but he knew he'd already said too much.

The sly grin that crept on Hermione's face made Regulus's stomach quiver. In these moments, he realized she was a Slytherin. There was cunning and resourcefulness about her that he couldn't deny. She was able to make any of the Slytherins dance to her tune like a snake charmer if she had the opportunity to speak with them alone. It was probably why Lucius had so much interest in her.

He shouldn't have decided to do his homework next to her; it was foolish.

"Ah, so Malfoy is getting involved in my life. Abraxas must be rolling in his grave right now." Hermione sat back on the sofa; posture much more relaxed now that she extracted the information she wanted.

Regulus clenched his jaw, wondering if she would even believe him if he retracted his statement, but with one look at her gloating face, he knew it would be useless.

"How do you even know Abraxas Malfoy died?" He asked, hoping to get some information on her. "His funeral was a private and exclusive event and the news didn't cover it at all."

She clenched her jaw at the thought of the man, "A private event isn't a secret event. If he really wanted his father's death a secret, he shouldn't have invited so many society women. Gossip is their elixir of life, you know. If I want all the gossip surrounding the Pureblood society, all I have to do is hide in the loo stalls for a few minutes while the girls prattle on and on about who's dating who, who gave who jewelry, what the dress code is for Black's infamous Christmas Masquerade party, or who showed up at the exclusive Abraxas Malfoy's closed casket funeral."

"It was Dragon Pox that got him." Regulus shuddered at the thought of the painful way to go.

Hermione's eyes darkened. "I know. Selfish bastard. If he hadn't died, I would have killed him myself."

"Oi, Black!" Someone barged into the common room, which made Regulus shoot out of his seat. "And Evans."

The intruder, who turned out to be Avery glanced at the duo with a skeptical look in his eye.

"What do you want, Avery?" Regulus asked.

Hermione let her eyes travel to Cornelia Fletcher who stood next to her date with wide eyes as she studied the scene with her gossip-addled brain.

"Sirius Black..." Avery gave her a pointed look. "He and the Gryffindors are making quite a ruckus in Three Broomsticks."

She sighed, "I'll deal with this." Hermione stood up from her seat and stretched, looking down at the coffee table where his assignment sat. "Oh, and by the way, the answers are 0.3 and 6.3 x 10-4."

"What?" Regulus asked, but she was already out the door. He looked down at his assignment to realize she'd just given him the answers to the questions he hadn't been able to answer for the last hour.

…

Hermione jogged through Hogsmeade, heading towards Three Broomsticks when her feet abruptly stopped.

The flowers weren't there. She'd placed them there only two days ago, there was no way they had wilted or died already, and it wasn't like the first few years where students and villagers stole the bouquet from the floor. No one thought twice about the flowers anymore.

She sighed, she'd have to return tonight to replace them.

As she approached Three Broomsticks, she stopped when she saw the silhouette of Remus standing at the entrance.

"What the hell happened here?"

Several shouts could be heard from the pub, but Hermione couldn't make out distinct words anymore. There was laughter, shouting, and whoops echoing into the night.

She took a few steps closer to hear better when a distinctive whine clearly rang out from the pub. "Noooooooo! Moony why did you do that?!"

Sirius was whining. Obnoxiously.

"Mr. Black! Enough!" The thick Scottish accent of Minerva McGonagall stopped him immediately. "You nine are going—"

"Minerva! Get control over your students! Do you know what they..."

Hermione couldn't hear the rest because she quickly ducked into an alleyway when the door swung open, revealing the said nine Gryffindors, sloppily trying to sneak their way back to the castle while their Head of House was being reprimanded by Rosmerta.

Dear Merlin. They were drunk off their arses.

Remus bore the grunt of the responsibility of trying to get everyone back to school by carrying Pettigrew over his shoulder and pushing Sirius. James was marginally soberer than the rest, so he herded the drunken Gryffindor girls like sheep down the path that would lead them back to the castle.

Hermione bit down on her lips to stop a laugh from escaping.

Once she was sure they were out of sight, she walked into Three Broomsticks only to be shocked a second time. Two tables were completely overturned, scattering the food and drinks onto the floor. Dishes and glasses had shattered in all directions. They'd even broken a stool.

"Was there a fight?"

McGonagall turned to see Hermione standing at the doorway, "Miss Evans."

"I heard the Gryffindors were causing a ruckus, but this is...more."

"That Black stood on two tables and started waving his arms around yelling 'I'm going to be the next Jimmy Page!' Then, he jumped to his friends, screaming 'crowd surf'."

Hermione's jaw slacked.

"I have to ask." Her lips twitched. "Did the arm-waving look something like this?" She motioned strumming a guitar in the air.

"Yes, but much much much more...drunkenly."

This time Hermione couldn't stop the snort.

"Well, which one of you is going to pay for the tab and damages?"

McGonagall sighed and started rubbing her eyes as she started pulling out her coin purse.

"No, professor." Hermione quickly stopped her. "I'll handle this. My sister was one of the people involved."

"Miss Evans, there's no way you could afford—"

"You need to check on the Gryffindors to make sure they get back safe. I saw them stumbling around not knowing the difference between left and right, up and down."

"But—"

"My only ask is that their punishment isn't too severe. Their hangover tomorrow morning will be punishment enough."

McGonagall relented and chased after her troublemaking students as Hermione walked up to Rosmerta, the pub owner.

"Everything can be paid through Alphard Black's tab. I know he comes every week to grab a pint with a dark-haired lady named Eileen?"

"Lord Black?" Rosmerta's brow raised.

"It's his nephew that caused the ruckus in the first place. He'll pay. You could even charge triple and he won't even know the difference."

"I can't do that! He's a great patron for this establishment and he'll be mad if I charge him without his—"

"Tell him Hermione Evans suggested it. Trust me. If he doesn't pay, I'll pay the tab myself. You know my name and that I go to Hogwarts. You can tell by my uniform that I'm a Slytherin. Just send an owl of the bill to the Slytherin common room with my name."

...

The throbbing pain in his brain was what initially woke him up, but as soon as the old noggin started turning, Sirius registered the unsettling feeling in his stomach. Before he even had the chance to fully take in his surroundings, his body reacted automatically to the churning of his stomach. He hurriedly stumbled to the loo, only for his destination to be preoccupied with someone else; Peter. Sirius tried to push his friend out of the way with his feet, but Peter wouldn't budge by clutching to the toilet bowl for dear life.

Sirius wanted to fight for the spot some more, but he was out of time. He threw himself to the sink and proceeded to vomit his guts out.

"Good morning." Remus greeted with a grimace. "You guys are cleaning your own bloody sick. Dragging your drunk arses to the dormitory last night was enough." He leaned against the doorway to the loo after setting down two large glasses of water next to each friend. The two inhaled the water down, which was quickly refilled by Aguamenti.

"Come on mates," James shouted, granting him a groan from both Sirius and Peter. "let's get some food in your alcohol-filled stomachs. It'll lessen the pain."

The sound of food made Sirius look a little green again, but in the end, Sirius and Peter were dragged out of the dormitory by Remus and James.

By the time the four boys entered the Great Hall, breakfast was well underway, which made all of them cringe at the loud sounds of the students' chatter. They made their way over to their usual spot to see their fellow female peers looking just about as green as the other boys.

"Hope you guys had fun last night." James tutted.

"Oh come off your high horse, Prongs." Remus scolded. "You were only slightly soberer than the rest of them. I heard you vomit in the early hours."

Mary grabbed some buns and threw them at Remus, "You're being too loud."

"Okay, but really, what happened last night?" Sirius asked as he settled for a piece of plain toast.

"I just remember laughing a lot, then it's just kind of black," Peter explained.

James nodded, "Yeah, sounds about right. You were pretty much passed out for the entire night."

"Oh, I remember that!" Sirius's eyes brightened at the memory. "I remember poking your sleeping head at Three Broomsticks, and complaining that you were such a lightweight…"

"Yes, Mr. Black. I remember that quite clearly as well."

Everyone jumped at the familiar and dreaded sound of Professor McGonagall's Scottish accent.

"I also remember Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin sneaking you and Mr. Pettigrew back to the castle while I profusely apologized to Rosmerta for my incredibly irresponsible and foolish students," McGonagall spoke between her teeth, seething with anger. "I hope you weren't expecting to avoid me forever."

"Professor! We…we were…I-I-I'm… I'm sorry." Sirius drooped back onto the bench. His head hurt too much to make up an excuse, not that he thought any excuse could possibly excuse him this time since they'd been caught red-handed.

"We're sorry." Everyone chimed in.

"Ms. Evans, you can thank your sister for paying the tab, as well as the broken stool and glass. She also helped you and your roommates back to your dorms."

"Hermione came down to the village?!"

"Yes," McGonagall nodded, "Someone seemed to have notified her of your presence there."

Everyone turned their heads to the Slytherin table to see Hermione sitting there, perching her head on her hands, as she stared at them with judgment. With a slight raise of her brow, she gave them a little wave, knowing exactly what they were thinking.

"Detention, all of you. For 3 months. With me. EVERY night. And 50 points from each of you."

A gasp came from every eavesdropping Gryffindor. The fellow lions cried out as the points on their hourglass disappeared, while Slytherins snickered with joy.

The fifth years winced at the piercing glares of their fellow Housemates but kept their heads down.

"You all should be glad that I'm not banning you from the Yule Ball," McGonagall asked with a raised brow. "Any complaints?"

"No, professor." The Gryffindors replied respectfully.

"Good." She said with the slightest smile on her face. She placed small vials of an unknown liquid in front of her students. "It's Hangover Potion. Drink up after a full meal. I expect to see all of you on your best behavior and your full attention during Transfiguration today."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sirius saluted the older woman, noticing the small smile on her face.

…

Hermione studied Sirius's face from the Slytherin table. It was unfair how good he looked, even when he was hungover. The only real difference in his appearance was that he looked more ruffled up than usual, and his lips lacked their usual rosiness.

She tore another piece of her whole-wheat toast and plopped it into her mouth, then sipped her black coffee. Judging by his lack of secretive glances in her direction, he didn't remember anything from the previous night, as she expected.

"Mudblood."

Hermione refused to look up at that name, continuing to eat her toast and sip her coffee.

"Evans," Mulciber stared down at her, trying to intimidate her with his size.

"Oh, Mulciber," Hermione greeted with a false smile. "I didn't see you there. What can I do for you?"

"A word."

Hermione glanced around. There was no way that she was ever going to get out of this unless she made a scene, so she nodded. She gestured the boys to lead the way and swiftly followed.

Mulciber abruptly stopped and tried to push her, but she caught his arm and flipped them so that he was the one that was pushed. She used her entire weight on the arm that she caught and slammed him into the stone wall next to them. The uneven and jagged texture of the wall must've jabbed Mulciber in the back as he cringed in pain.

"What do you want?"

"Hasn't Malfoy told you?" Travers walked out from the corner. "It was his job of telling you after you won."

"What are you talking about?"

"What he's talking about is none of your concern."

Everyone turned at the sound of a new voice that stepped out from the corner. Regulus Black wore his custom-fitted robes and his hair combed away from his face, much different from the boy frustrated with his homework that Hermione had encountered the night before.

"What are you doing here?" Travers asked, puffing out his chest, but the act of confidence was just that, an act. Regulus might be only a third year, but he was a Black. Most likely to be the heir to the family if Sirius continued to be the muggle-loving Gryffindor he was. Regulus's social tier was higher than any of the students standing in the hall, and no one knew that as well as Regulus and Travers themselves.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked Travers, his eyes scanning the scene.

"I'm doing what he wants and what he wants is her. He claims she's the perfect fit."

"She is a Mudblood. Her mere presence would taint the room and the whole cause." Regulus drawled in disgust.

"That is for him to decide after he sees her." Travers countered. His eyes traveled back and forth between Regulus and Hermione.

"Have you seduced him too?" He scoffed at her. "You probably asked to be a Slytherin so you could be surrounded by the most influential people in this society and then use your pitiful act to attract the attention of a man."

"I have not been seduced." He said the word as if it was poison in his mouth. "She is a mudblood. Her winning the dueling championships should reflect shame to you. She did not go against the truly Pure, it is why she won."

"She won against your brother."

"My brother was foolish and distracted by her…disgraceful acts!" Regulus spat, glaring at her. "She would not win against me or my family in a true and honest duel. That is why Lucius has refused to present her to him and it is why I'm stopping you now."

Suddenly Regulus's commandeering voice softened to something akin to comradery, "Travers, this mudblood has ties with the Headmaster, it's how she kicked Yaxley out of the school as a first-year. Don't shame your House and your name by doing this."

Travers's eyes wavered at the thought of being expelled. He remembered how much his own mother used to gossip about how the Yaxley boy being kicked out of Hogwarts because of a mudblood and how his father tutted in shame.

Grudgingly, Travers and cronies walked off, his cronies following him. With the threat now gone, Hermione released Mulciber from her hold and he bumped her as he passed, causing Hermione to stumble, but otherwise went quietly as well.

Regulus watched them leave, ensuring they were gone.

"Why does he want to see me?" She whispered. Had she not been staring so intently at him; she might have missed how subtly he flinched.

"What are you talking about."

"You and Travers were talking about him. Why would he want to see me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." He stepped away, but she pulled out her wand and kept him there.

Hermione looked down the length of her smooth and varnished black wand, then up at Regulus who stayed put at her threat but was avoiding eye contact.

"Do I look like I don't know what I'm talking about?" She asked. Her hazel eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated. It was possibly the most expressive Regulus had ever seen her.

Regulus knew he wasn't supposed to tell. He shouldn't have told, but she was serious. She would hex him if he didn't say. "He wanted the winner of the championship to join his ranks. Why do you think Lucius gave you such low marks?"

…

Hermione decided to skip double Transfiguration and walked aimlessly down the corridors of Hogwarts, thinking about her conversation with Regulus Black.

She was living a nightmare…Voldemort wanted to see her. While she assumed that winning the Dueling Championship would attract attention, she had no clue that it would attract this much. She'd gotten too loud, she was supposed to be a talentless invisible muggleborn, but she got greedy and got sick and tired of people looking at her like trash. The noise she'd made now attracted the attention of the one man she didn't want to attract.

Hermione could vividly imagine Voldemort's red and glowing eyes staring at her with that sick look of interest and evil that caused her stomach to churn. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to get out of this? Should she even get out of it? It was a chance to be behind enemy lines, but the very idea made her want to vomit.

"Oh, boohoo. Granger got picked by Voldemort. Gee, I wonder what that's like…"

Hermione turned her head at the sound of the annoying voice. Instead of the 16-year-old, she expected to see, Draco Malfoy appeared as his 30-year-old self. His already angular face was far more chiseled and stood tall and regal as always. He eluded confidence in every step he took and his gaze never faltered. The last time she'd ever properly spoken to him was when he had walked into her office when she was working as an employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

…

It was late. Hermione didn't know exactly what time it was, but she knew it was late by the fact that the only source of light in her room was her lamp and she couldn't hear the bustle of the office outside her door. She had promised she would stop working overtime, but it was her last week before maternity leave (forced by Kingsley). She needed to leave before Ron came barging into her office again. She started to reorganize her desk, stacking documents and forms based on urgency and date, scattered quills and pens back into the 'Greatest Wife' mug she got as a gimmicky valentine present from Ron when someone stumbled into her office without knocking.

Hermione pulled her wand out in an instant and shot a quick freeze charm. She clutched her round belly out of maternal instinct as she took a proper look at the late-night intruder. After she took a moment to recollect herself, she realized that she did know this person. His normally styled hair was in disarray, he was far paler than anyone she'd ever seen, and reeked of firewhiskey.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?" When she reversed the freezing charm, he ungracefully fell to the floor.

"Ugh!" the said man struggled to find his footing and get himself back up again, in the end, he just gave up and sat on her office floor. They both stayed silent as if they were waiting for the other person to speak first. She studied her school nemesis in surprise. She'd seen him around, of course, the tabloids loved to talk about the ex-Death Eater, but she hadn't actually spoken to him in several years.

She tutted at his drunken state, he reeked of alcohol. In all their years together in Hogwarts, she'd never seen him this disarrayed. He still gelled his hair in his 6th year, even during all that commotion and fear.

"What are you doing here? At this time? Sloshed? Won't your wife worry?" She asked in her normal rapid succession.

"Tori was pregnant." He muttered. "A year ago."

She remembered the magazines claiming she was pregnant about a year ago, but assumed it was all a hoax since there was no baby, but the "was" explained what really happened without the need for more words.

After a moment of silence, she wobbled to the closest chair and struggled to sit down with her big belly. "I'm sorry to hear that." She said sincerely. Losing a child was a pain that she couldn't possibly imagine.

"She was a girl. First Malfoy girl in generations. Today would have been her first birthday. She was going to be perfect with my hair and Tori's eyes. We even decorated her room."

"Malfoy…" Her voice was soft, softer than she'd ever spoken to him. Her heart went out to him. Perhaps it was pregnancy hormones, but she just wanted to give him a big hug.

"I was a shit to you in school." He muttered. "If anyone treated my daughter even remotely like I treated you, I would kill them."

"My parents never knew about you." She told him, though she didn't know if it reassured him as she intended. "Besides, you were the least of my worries most of the time."

Malfoy let out a chuckle, "The Golden fucking Trio. Heroes of our time."

Hermione didn't respond. She watched him in his drunken stupor with sadness and pity.

"Granger… I'm…" his breath was unsteady. "I'm…"

She knew what he wanted to say, but she also knew he was a prideful man.

The word "sorry" was odd. It was impossibly simple but difficult and complex at the same time. It was something people easily said to a stranger in the street for bumping into them, but also something that never easily left your mouth when it was the most needed.

"I know."

The man sitting on her floor finally raised his head to look at the woman whose office he barged into. They'd both aged significantly, but somehow, she stayed the same; plain yet marvelous. He understood her appeal. The reason why everyone in the Wizarding world knew she would be the Minister of Magic after Kingsley, why Potter and Weasley protected her so absolutely, why his muggle-hating father gave a silent nod of approval when the news reported that she was promoted faster than anyone else; even Potter.

Simply put, there was something remarkable about the heavily pregnant woman sitting next to him.

"I'm scared I'm going to raise my son as my father raised me." His internal insecurity spilled out of his lips before he could stop it.

"You're not going to." She spoke with more confidence in him than he did for himself. "You're not your father, Malfoy."

"How do you know?"

"I just do and I tend to be right."

She spoke with the same swotty voice that she used when she was in Hogwarts. It used to grate at his mind, but at that moment, it gave him the sense of comfort and confidence that nothing else gave.

"Know-it-all."

"Cockroach." She fired back without a second of hesitation.

They both smiled at their childish insults. No, they would never be friends, maybe in another world or another time, but at least, they had come to an understanding.

He stumbled trying to stand up, but after he finally managed, he stuck out his hand to return the favor. When they both exited her office, they turned to each other with a sense of calm.

"Good night, Granger."

Hermione smiled at the mention of her maiden name. She hadn't been called Granger for some time, but it felt fitting that Draco Malfoy was the only one who would.

"Good night, Malfoy."

…

"Granger," the hallucination of Draco Malfoy snapped her back to reality. "If Voldemort wants you, then you're in bigger trouble than you imagine. You need to be more cautious, more cunning, and more political than you've ever been."

"They would have been 18. Our children." Hermione thought to him. She'd closed her eyes and smiled as she imagined her daughter in her late teens. She would have been beautiful. Her precious little Rose. Hugo would have been an uncontrollable teenager that might rebel against everything she said, just for the sake of rebelling. He might have even grown his hair out, just like his Uncle Bill.

Malfoy flinched at her thoughts but shook his head to focus once more. "If he wants you, then that monster is going to test you. Watch your back, Granger."

"You were a good father," Hermione surmised. "I didn't see you as one of the Death Eaters when he rose again."

This time, instead of ignoring her, he acknowledged her words.

"Well," he shrugged, "you said I would be, and as you said, you're rarely wrong."

…