Stepping out into Granger's sitting room proved to be a much smoother affair than when he'd carried her from the cottage to the Manor. Something about carrying an unconscious body would throw anybody off balance. Draco looked around the quaint space as he sought a comfortable place to set her down, ever-typically Granger with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and gaudy Muggle finishings.

"The sofa's fine," she said, inclining her head toward the middle of the room.

He lowered her down gently, propping her head up on one of her ghastly accent pillows...blue floral brocade with gold silk trim. She shifted deeper into the cushions with a muttered "thank you," as Draco grabbed an equally distasteful quilt and placed it over her reclining form.

"Don't mention it."

An awkward moment of silence fell between them before Crookshanks broke it by barreling into the room and leaping onto Granger's outstretched legs. Draco took an immediate step back, a look of abject horror on his face at the sight of it.

"What in Merlin's name is that mangy thing doing inside your home?"

She reached down to cover Crookshank's ears. "Don't speak of Crookshanks like that," she scolded him. "He's sensitive. Aren't you Crooksie?" Her hand glided down the length of his furry back, all the way to his bottle-neck tail, as she whispered something that sounded remarkably like baby babble into the feline's ear.

Draco watched the very bizarre display, trying to puzzle out exactly why one would allow such a shabby creature into their living space. He could have sworn once as a child he caught a critter just like it rifling through the Manor's trash bins.

"Malfoy, would you mind running into the kitchen and filling Crookshank's food dish for me?" By then the monster had traveled up to her face and engaged her in a grotesque display of showering his head with kisses. "The kitchen's right behind me and you'll find a container of food in the third cabinet on the right. On the bottom shelf," she clarified.

He wanted to snap back by saying, "I'm not your bloody house-elf," but given her current condition, he instead went with a saccharine, "Anything else you need while I'm in there? A warm cup of tea, perhaps?"

He was aiming for sarcasm, but unfortunately missed the mark because Granger answered with an enthusiastic, "Oh, sure! That'd be lovely."

Moments later, she could hear cupboards opening and closing with unnecessary force along with the clattering of pots and pans.

"Everything going alright in there?" she hollered.

"Oh, yes!" he replied emphatically. "Couldn't be better!"

She thought about going into the kitchen to investigate the ruckus, but not only would her aching arm not allow it, but Crookshanks lay stretched across her stomach in such a contented state that she couldn't bear the thought of disturbing him.

When the noisy commotion finally passed, she could hear the light rattle of Crookshank's vittles dropping into his metal dish. "Crooksie, your food's ready! Why don't you go into the kitchen and have a look!"

Recognizing her honeyed tone as the signal for a feast, the half-kneazle leaped from her lap and cantered into the kitchen.

After an exceedingly long period of time by most people's standards, Draco reemerged carrying a wicker tray with a rather elaborate tea service, placing it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Splash of milk and one lump of sugar."

She looked up to see his clothing askew and disheveled hair slipping into his overly-tired eyes. "Aren't you having any?"

He collapsed into the chair beside the couch. "I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. Oh, and I almost forgot." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pain potion and sleeping draught he pilfered from the Manor. "Here," he said, stiffly placing the vials on the tea tray. "For when you need it."

"Thanks, Malfoy." She moved to sit upright, reaching for the steaming cup of Earl Grey with her good arm before adding, "I want you to know I really appreciate what you did for me today...I realize now that going back inside the cottage without a proper plan may have been a bit hasty." She inclined her head, as she adjusted the quilt across her lap, clutching the toasty vessel of tea. "What I'm really trying to say is thank you for rushing to pick up the pieces after I made a colossal mess of things."

He shifted in his seat, unaccustomed to the unfamiliar feeling of being showered with praise. After several terse moments, he finally managed to give a curt nod in acknowledgment.

"I know you'll never accept, but I owe you one...you know, for saving my life."

He uncomfortably twisted the signet ring on his finger. "That's not necessary, Granger. I did what any wizard would have done given the circumstances."

"That may be, but it would only feel right if I repaid the favor in some small way." When she saw him chuckle under his breath, she added, "It's fine if you won't agree...I'll just have to find a way to repay you without you recognizing it as such." Her lips quirked up into a lopsided grin that he didn't see.

"You can repay me right now by taking your potions and getting some rest. I don't need to have a partner tomorrow who can't even hold up her head."

"Yes, Healer Malfoy," she said, in the playfully mocking tone of an obedient soldier. She reached to pick up the pain potion, just as Crookshanks came sprinting back into the room, swiftly dipping his head under her legs and leaping onto the chair where Draco sat.

Malfoy jolted to the outermost edge of the seat when Crookshanks began methodically burrowing into the space beside his leg.

Hermione tried and failed to stifle her laughter.

"What's so funny, Granger?" he asked with a flimsy hint of annoyance, twisting awkwardly to lean away from the furry beast. "You think it's funny that this vermin has the same problem you do of minding people's personal space?" His voice was notably charged, but there was surprisingly no underlying malice.

Her laughter grew louder, eyes glinting with unshed tears. "Well, you are in his chair," she countered, as if somehow he should have known there was assigned seating in her flat.

He edged farther away...not that that was even possible. "There's something wrong with this-this...thing, Granger! It's emitting some sort of a clamorous rumble! Please don't tell me it's about to detonate because I have had quite enough of disasters for one day!"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose, her shoulders shaking from the force of now uncontrollable laughter. "He's purring, you fool." She peered up to find him staring at her with a stony glower. "It means he likes you. You should feel honored. Crookshanks doesn't ever take to anyone. Not Harry. Not even Ron-"

He glared down with a furrowed brow at the tranquil brute who had already fallen asleep and seemed to be completely oblivious to the heated exchange. "Yes, I feel so honored," he said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione snorted. "Just relax. He won't bother you if you don't bother him."

Seeming to heed her advice, his body resorted to a more slackened posture as he watched her gather up her potions and down them one by one. The clock on the mantle read near four o'clock, the methodical ticking emanating a steady pulse in the otherwise tranquil room.

He quietly took in his surroundings, thinking perhaps he'd been a bit hasty with his initial appraisal of her flat. It maybe wasn't his taste, but it wasn't as hideous as he previously thought upon first glance. The space's backdrop of muted tones was punctuated with vibrant hues of blues, reds, and yellows, both solids and patterns that paired well with her furniture-comfortable, yet charming.

The bookshelves lining the wall were organized alphabetically by author's last name, along with contemporary knick-knacks placed at just the right spacing to be aesthetically pleasing. Not surprisingly, framed moving photographs of her and her friends adorned nearly every surface. Harry's unsightly face posing for the camera beside a Muggle monument was the last thing he remembered seeing before his eyes flew open and he saw the real Harry Potter looming over him with nearly the exact same revolting expression on his face.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

Draco bolted upright in the chair, horrified when he looked down and saw that he had fallen asleep with his hand nestled snugly around the half-kneazle. With his abrupt movement, the mangy mouser leaped down and scurried across the room to the kitchen.

It took a moment for him to gather up his faculties enough to formulate a coherent reply.

"Shite, I must have dozed off."

For the first time, he noticed Theo standing off to the side, hands buried in his pockets, absently taking in the landscape of Granger's flat.

The trio looked over to where Hermione stirred.

Seeing her eyes flutter open, Harry painstakingly stepped over Draco's outstretched legs and immediately took a seat on the couch at her side. "'Mione, how are you feeling?" he asked, gently running his hand over her forehead and tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear.

"Why don't you let her rest, Potter?" Draco cut-in stiffly.

"It's fine," Hermione whispered dazedly. "How long have I been out?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the clock which read half seven o'clock. "Several hours at least," he answered, craning his neck to see her face since Potter's unshapely body was blocking his view.

"I heard what happened, 'Mione. How's your arm feeling?" He gave it a delicate stroke with his hand.

She wiggled her fingers and bent her arm at the elbow. "It's much better actually. Thanks to Draco," she added. "He's been taking rather good care of me." She gestured to the empty potion bottles and tea tray still laying on the coffee table.

Theo's mouth twitched. "Oh, he's Draco now?" He emitted a dark chuckle under his breath. "You save someone's life and all of a sudden you're on a first-name basis."

Draco's eyes snapped to his with a warning glare.

"So, are you going to tell us what went down after we left the cottage, Potter?" Malfoy asked, rising from his seat and migrating to where his erstwhile friend still appeared to be riddling out the rather peculiar scene in front of him.

Harry got up from the couch and inched his way over to the other side of the coffee table closer to the Slytherin pair. "There's not much to tell other than we showed up just in time to put out the flames in the greenhouse, but not in time to apprehend MacNair." He shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glancing from Draco to Theo.

Theo choked out a humorless laugh. "Is that how you remember it? Cuz if my memory serves me correctly, I recall your botched army of Aurors charged the building with a shitstorm of spells just as I was about to take them both down. Oh, yeah, and set off the sprinklers in the process!" His laugh descended into harried delirium as he continued with his version of events. "And let's not forget to tell them the part about when the roof collapsed on us, sending barbed shards of glass raining down as we scrambled to make it out without getting impaled!" By then his voice was fraught with uncontained exasperation as he paced the room, arms flailing, and red-faced.

A crimson flush crept up Harry's neck as he looked sheepishly from Draco to Hermione. "That's one version of the events, yeah. The other version is where everyone got out of there unscathed...and that's what really matters. At any rate, Hermione...Theo tells me you and Malfoy may have found something useful while you were there."

Feeling a sudden burst of energy at the reminder, she sprang fully upright, reaching into her beaded bag and pulling out the two bottles containing the swirling iridescent substance and holding them out for Harry to see. "Yes, Harry-we found these vials. We think they might be Miriam's memories."

Harry's face looked hopeful for the first time that day as he reached out to take them. "Excellent. We can bring them down to Evidence tomorrow and let them have a look."

"That won't be necessary," Draco cut-in, causing Harry to abruptly retract his outstretched arm. "Granger and I already decided we'd examine them ourselves. I have a Pensieve at the Manor."

"He's right, Harry. I'd rather we survey them first. Plus-" She reached her arm deeper into her beaded bag, pulling out the stoppered tubes. "I managed to extract some residue from each of Miriam's cauldrons. I plan to run some diagnostic spells on them to see exactly what she may have been brewing on the days leading up to her death."

Harry nodded hopefully. "Brilliant. Well, looks like that's settled then."

"Did you have the chance to have a look around MacNair Manor when you got Theo's Patronus?" The question had been niggling at the back of her mind, even though she had a feeling he would have already offered it up had they had any success on that front.

"Unfortunately not," he replied dispiritedly, kneading the back of his neck. "The wards were impenetrable. Couldn't get near the place."

"I see," she said with a hint of disappointment as her eyes cast downward.

The fleeting glance landed on the coffee table where she noticed a scroll lying that hadn't been there before. "What's this?" she asked, reaching forward to pick it up and regarding the three wizards skeptically as her eyes were met with matching blank stares.

She carefully unrolled the missive, scanning only the top line which read Draco in elegant script.

"Oh, it's for you," she said before closing it and handing it across to Malfoy. "Must have come while we slept."

While he paused to give it a once over, vacant eyes coolly combing the length of the page, Harry seized the opportunity to depart for the evening.

"I promised Ginny I'd stop by the Burrow on the way home," he said, as if his escape required an explanation. "Glad to see you're doing ok." He leaned over and gave Hermione a quick hug before patting Draco firmly on the shoulder as he passed. "Later, Malfoy."

The distracted wizard didn't look up from his missive as Harry made his way across the room. "See you, Nott. Don't linger here too long...we'll need you in top form tomorrow. The Strout paperwork won't sort out itself," he mused with a hearty slap to Theo's back.

Nott flashed a hardened scowl behind the retreating wizard right up until the moment where Harry stepped into the flames of the Floo and disappeared.

"Miserable sod," he muttered under his breath.

"You got that right," Draco grumbled to no one in particular.

"What's that?" Theo asked, stepping forward to drop onto Hermione's chaise.

Draco shook the letter he was holding. "My father. He's a miserable sod."

Hermione's brows knitted with interest. "What makes you say that?"

His expression stiffened as his eyes surreptitiously met Theo's. "He's playing games I have no interest in playing."

"What kind of games?" she asked, noting the significant change in his demeanor and suddenly realizing the letter must be from his father.

"Let's just say he's holding the book I asked for hostage," he answered cryptically.

Hermione glanced between the two wizards, bewilderment heavily weaved into her features. "I don't follow."

Recognition dawned on Theo's face. "He's trying to get you to go back there, isn't he?"

Draco nodded imperceptibly. "I'll just have to find another way to research the crest," he said to Hermione, carelessly tossing the missive back onto the table.

"Sorry, I still don't follow," she said with a hint of impatience. "What's the issue with going back there?"

Draco dropped into his chair, a muscle tensing in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He could feel the heat from her and Theo's stare as he fought an internal war with himself about how much he was willing to reveal in front of the vexing witch.

"In case you hadn't had the misfortune of reading today's Daily Prophet, you may not have seen that my parents are in talks with a family in France to arrange a marriage contract with their daughter. And I refuse to be backed into a corner." Each pained syllable appeared to be a struggle to get out.

She wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the admission considering she didn't know if what Theo had divulged to her that morning was confidential information so she continued to sit there in silent acknowledgment.

His shoulders tensed as he massaged the back of his neck. "I'd rather betroth myself to Moaning Myrtle and live the rest of my life out in the girl's second-floor bathroom before attaching myself to that barmy trollop."

For the first time, he looked up to address the pair whose eyes remained fixed on him like a trained beacon. "My father could have simply sent me the book I requested, but he said if I'd like it I will need to come to France and get it." He tapped his foot impatiently against the table. "Obviously that's not going to happen."

Hermione made a pained face, sympathy clearly etched within her scrunched features. "I'm sorry Malfoy. Try not to worry about the book. We've got enough leads for now. Even without it, we'll think of another way to get the information we need."

"That's hardly the point," he snapped. "I don't exactly react well to being manipulated-and if I let my father get away with it this time, who's to say he won't try it again at some other time in the future."

"You make a good point," Theo agreed. "Sure would feel good to put ol' Lucius in his place for once."

"Maybe if you went with someone, he'd be less likely to corner you while you're there?" Hermione suggested. "Theo, you could go with him, yeah?"

"That's taking the easy way out," Draco all but spat. "Dragging Theo along does absolutely nothing to illustrate my displeasure with this farce of a marriage contract."

Hermione shrunk back into the sofa. She never professed to have all the right answers to every complicated question, but she sure couldn't be accused of failing to try.

Theo drummed his fingers on the arm of the chaise before leaning forward and striking the coffee table with the palm of his hand. "That's it!"

"What's it?" they both said in unison.

Theo donned a devious grin before unveiling what was sure to be a colossally ill-advised scheme. "Taking me along does absolutely nothing to illustrate your displeasure-but what about if you took Granger?" There was an insidious pause that dragged on a moment too long before Theo added, "-as your girlfriend."

"What?" they both barked incredulously.

"You have lost your mind, mate," Draco scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, completely lost it," she added, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and doing everything in her power to not make eye contact with Draco.

"Hear me out before you get your knickers in a twist. If dear 'ol Lucius thinks you've already got yourself a wife lined up, he'll drop the whole marriage contract nonsense-and BOOM! you're in the clear." He held out his arms as if he were taking a bow at the close of a particularly atrocious Greek tragedy.

"I've heard enough of this," Draco groaned, impatiently rising to stand. "I'm not bringing Granger into this mess and that's the end of it." He began pacing the length of the room. "I'll think of something."

Theo slapped his hands on his lap and rose to his feet. "Well, suit yourself. Don't say I didn't try." A wry smirk spread across his face as he patted Malfoy on his back and ambled over to Granger's Floo. "I'm sure you two brilliant scholars will think of something. In the meantime, I'm off- got a hot date with my pillow. 'Night, folks." And with a curt salute, he vanished into the dazzling flames.

Draco continued to carve an anxious path in front of the hearth before finally dropping down onto the chaise Theo vacated. He dragged a hand down his face before leaning back with a sigh. "Sorry about him. And sorry about this. I never meant for you to-"

"It's fine. Theo's Theo. I'm more concerned about why your parents feel the need to meddle in your life. I thought they changed their misguided ways following the war...at least that's what the Daily Prophet seemed to suggest."

"Well, you should know, not everything is as it seems," he said dolefully. "It's fine. I will figure out a way to handle it."

"You keep saying 'it's fine,' but from my vantage point things are most assuredly not fine. I mean, look at you." He was slumped forward, elbows propped stiffly on his thighs, rigid fists gripping his head. "Sometimes you just need someone to care about what you're going through and to be in your corner-and well, I know we're hardly what you'd call friends, but I want you to know I'm not opposed to helping you-not that you'd even want my help."

"You say that as if you can help me, Granger. Hate to break it to you, but there's nothing anyone can do to help me. There never has been."

The rather grim admission hung thickly in the scant space between them, causing Hermione to think back to the impossible position he found himself in during the war-under the thumb of a madman-likely fearing for his and his family's lives each and every day. Where if either made one false move they'd be dead or worse.

She'd always wondered if he had had someone in his corner, someone who'd offered him a better way-another path to chart-if things would have turned out differently for him.

She watched in pity as he carded tense fingers through his hair, never looking up from where his eyes stared blankly at the area rug beneath her coffee table.

Acutely aware that no hero showed up for him in the past's version of events, she decided in that moment that despite their very tenuous working relationship, she wouldn't let him go this alone. She never could ignore a charity case...but he didn't need to know that.

"I'm going to go with you," she declared matter-of-factly into the oppressive silence.

This time he snorted. "You won't be going with me because, as I stated before, I'm not going. I refuse to give in to playing my father's little games."

"So don't give in to his games-beat him at them! What's more is he won't even be expecting it. Don't you want for once in your life to fight on the side of what's right instead of taking it lying down?" Her tone was growing increasingly more forceful, causing him to finally look up morosely.

"My parents weren't born yesterday, Granger. They'll never believe you and I are a couple. They'll see right through it the moment we walk through the door."

"Maybe so, but it will at least send a very clear message that you are in charge of your own destiny and if you'd like to bring a witch of your choosing home for the afternoon, you can do as you damn well please!"

Draco laughed sardonically at her boisterous outburst. "What do you care anyway, Granger? This has nothing to do with you."

She shrugged her shoulders in disinterest. "It's of absolutely no consequence to me if you want to shackle yourself to that barmy French trollop. I'm sure she'll make a lovely wife and a delightful mother to your three charming children."

That seemed to do the trick.

"For fuck's sake, Granger! I can't believe I'm about to be sucked into another one of your poorly-thought-out, thoroughly atrocious-on-every-level plans." His fists began to gouge caverns into his eyes. "I'm certain were we to go through with this, it will end up exactly how this brilliant plan of yours did." He gestured around to Granger's cradled arm and the empty potion bottles scattered across the coffee table.

Hermione donned a wry smile. "Not all of my plans end in disaster. In fact, thus far it's only been this one. Besides, this isn't technically my plan anyways. It's Theo's. So, should it not work out as you'd hoped, you can take that up with him. I'm only trying to help you out-while also following up on the case. So, if you've nothing more to add, it's settled. After we have a look at Miriam's memories tomorrow, we can go to France and gather the book from your father."

"I don't think you've any idea what awaits you, Granger-my parents can be immensely difficult."

"As always, you underestimate me, Malfoy."