It would be one hundred percent accurate to say that Hermione hadn't slept a wink. In fact, nearly every maneuver following the word regret managed to be a blur- apart from the horribly awkward exchange when Draco dropped her off at her flat- that unfortunately, her brain decided to remember with absolute clarity. There was also one other pesky recollection that her brain decided to remember with absolute clarity, but she was in no mood to go over that disastrous misadventure again. Every time she did, which was exactly one thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine times, if she didn't lose count following her last trip to the loo, she was left with a most humiliating feeling in her gut.

Why could she not have just stood there and played the part of the smitten girlfriend? Instead, she'd somehow managed to make herself look like a common slag by gripping his hips and pulling the hard planes of his chest against hers, laving at his lips like he was a flavor she couldn't resist. She groaned, not for the first time, thinking about how Draco had avowed his infinite regret of the encounter. And worst of all, she really couldn't blame him. How would she ever be able to resume the mundanities of their work routine when she could barely manage to look him in the eye?

That was the question that hung heavily in her mind as she hastily prepared breakfast for her departure to the Ministry. She figured she'd be far more useful going in early to get some work done than sitting around agonizing over the prior evening's events. The idea was short-lived, however, as she gathered up her belongings to depart and near-crippling fatigue overcame her as she was about to step into the Floo. With a terse look at her mantle clock telling her it would be hours yet before the Ministry would spring to life, she determined it would behoove her to have a short lie-in before tackling the day ahead.

And that is why when Draco stepped through her Floo that morning to tell her about the Daily Prophet article, he found her sprawled out on her sitting room couch, a mess of twisted limbs and chaotic curls. It would have been a comic scene were it not for the gravity of his mission tethering him to reality. He contemplated waking her, surprised the roaring of her Floo hadn't done so itself. But knowing how drained he felt following their ill-advised excursion to France, he figured she was wholly knackered and therefore opted for allowing her to sleep. Besides, it would give him some additional time to devise a well-thought-through plan of how to break the ruinous news to her.

He looked around for Crookshanks before dropping onto her chaise and pulling the Daily Prophet article from his inner pocket. The image reflecting back at him caused him to feel the razor-sharp pit in his stomach begin to roil once again. This time, his eyes traveled down to skim the article that accompanied it. Not that it mattered. The title and picture itself were enough to set the entire wizarding population ablaze with outrage. He shoved the paper back into his pocket with his fist. It appalled him the length to which the termagent Rita Skeeter would go to acquire fuel for such salacious gossip, leaving him to wonder who amongst his parents' milieu deigned to be the mole to provide her with it. His mind combed through the lengthy list of guests he remembered seeing that night, but none stuck out as expressly suspect.

He looked over at Hermione as she lay there, the epitome of virtue and morality, and his heart sank deeper in his chest thinking of what utter devastation awaited her. She was the last person on earth deserving of such a fate. It was almost laughable how earlier that week in Kingsley's office he had feared she'd be the cause of his inevitable downfall at the Ministry- and now here he sat in her living room, the starring villain in the tragic story of her life. He should have known given his sordid history that anything he touched turned to shite. He watched as her chest rose and fell in peaceful oblivion and he wondered how she'd take the news that the Prophet had etched her name next to his like a tombstone epitaph for all the world to see. There was no amount of repentance that would ever erase the damage this one single indiscretion had caused.

He sat there in silence going over in his mind all the ways in which the conversation could go. "Good morning, Granger. Care for a spot of tea? Oh, and by the way, I've ruined your life."

Or, "Fancy some light reading? Here. Check out this juicy story about how a disgraced former Death Eater destroyed the life of an entirely faultless war heroine."

Or possibly, "We've had such a jolly good time together this past week, I thought we could take our professional relationship to a whole new level of carnage. Here. Have a look."

He raked a hand through his strewn hair as the clock ticked away the minutes like a timebomb waiting to detonate. It felt like he lost years of his life sitting in that chair, the internal strife so all-consuming he'd even missed the stirring coming from Granger's couch. Were it not for the light mewling sound exhaled from a particularly protracted stretch, he may have missed it altogether.

He glanced over just in time to see her chestnut eyes fluttering open, glazed over and endeavoring to focus. He tried to look away to give her the privacy he thought the occasion deserved, but like a magnet, his eyes were helplessly drawn to hers. It took the length of several lofty breaths for her to completely come to before she realized she was looking into the eyes of the very last person she hoped to see at that moment.

Her weary brow furrowed as she slowly pushed herself up on her elbows, looking around and noticing for the first time that she was dressed in her office attire. Confusion immediately painted her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in an undertone of panic. "Did I oversleep and miss work?" She craned her neck to see past him to her mantle clock but her tired eyes couldn't quite make out the time.

He shook his head. "No. You're not late for work."

Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted to sit up more fully, placing her feet on the ground in front of her. She shook her head to free the cobwebs that had formed on her brain while she slept before taking a fortifying breath. "Then what are you doing here?" she asked again, listless eyes now entirely focused on him.

His pulse began to quicken but he suppressed his disquietude by focusing on the task at hand. It was his turn for the fortifying breath.

Sensing his uneasiness, she leaned forward and placed her hand placatingly on his knee. "If you're here to talk about last night, I can assure you, I've already forgotten about all of it so there's no need to agonize over it any further."

His jaw tightened at her words, but he remained forcefully composed. "While nothing makes me happier than to hear you were able to so swiftly erase my flagrant imprudence, that unfortunately is not what I'm here to talk about."

"Then what is it you are here to talk about?"

He surveyed every inch of her, committing to memory the vision of Hermione Granger before her life fell to ruins. The beautiful, flawless, pure, unbroken visage of the wizarding world's war heroine.

He looked heavenward before releasing a heavy sigh. "I'm here to tell you that at the moment, the whole of wizarding Britain not only thinks that we're a couple, but I'm reasonably certain they also think you've been Imperiused- by me."

"What?" she asked, face blanching with confusion. "Why would they think that?"

"They'd think that because someone took a photo at the fundraiser last evening and someway or another Rita Skeeter got her hands on it and had a field day with it on the front page of today's newspaper."

An audible gasp escaped her mouth. "She didn't!"

"She did," he assured. "And that's not the worst of it."

"What?" she exclaimed. "How is that not the worst of it?"

He dragged his hand down the entire length of his face. "It's not the worst of it because of exactly what it is we're doing in the picture."

Hermione had a hippogriff in the headlights look on her face as she ever-so-cautiously asked the question she dreaded the answer to.

"What exactly is it that we are doing in the picture?"

His eyes bored into hers as he reached into his pocket and retrieved Theo's copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here. Have a look for yourself."

She carefully unfolded the wrinkled parchment, hands shaking as she did so. When the slightest flash of the front page became visible, a strangled shriek escaped her throat.

The undisputed image of her and Draco snogging on the dance floor mocked her from her lap. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she looked on to the headline and accompanying article.

Draco watched with bated breath for her unrestrained reaction.

"Merlin, this is unconscionable! How could she!" she cried, continuing to frantically scan the article.

Draco shook his head back and forth, looking at the floor and bracing for the forthcoming eruption.

"This is all lies! Not one word of it is true! How can she get by with printing this- this- this- flagrant slander! These are people's lives she's distorting! Their reputations! Their livelihoods." A flush of red fury crawled up her neck and spread across her face. "I will not just sit back and allow this loathsome liar to destroy all you've worked for. The way she's portrayed you is all wrong! You're not some demonic Death Eater that's Imperiused a war heroine! You're-"

"Wait, what?" he interrupted, eyes snapping over to hers. "That's what you took away from this- that I'm- misunderstood?"

She stared at him, hair crackling and eyes ablaze. "What do you mean? Of course, that's what I took away from it! You could lose your job at the Ministry! They could throw you in Azkaban! You could-" She trailed off. "I will find a way to fix this!"

"Granger."

She balled her fists, struggling to steady her breath. "What?" she finally managed.

"I'm not your problem to fix. Besides, I would think you'd be a bit more concerned about how your reputation will fare after being publicly linked to me."

"To you?" she asked, feeling a stormy mix of agitation and confusion. "Why on earth would I be concerned about being linked to you?"

Draco chuckled mirthlessly. "Maybe because I tarnish your otherwise unsullied reputation."

"You can't possibly believe that," she said, eyes narrowing.

"I don't believe it, Granger- I know it. The wizarding world has left no room for a social pariah like me to ever redeem myself. Why do you think my parents moved to France? Because they like French cuisine?" He laughed bitterly. "No, they left because society made it impossible for them to peacefully exist in a world in which they think we don't belong." He shook his head in defeat. "Don't think I don't recall every day how Kingsley has done me a favor I will never be able to repay by letting me do honest work for the Ministry. If it weren't for this job, where would I be right now? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that? I will tell you where I'd be. I'd be living in France under my parents' thumb, preparing to be married off to the highest bidder." He got up out of his chair and began to pace the floor. "You might think you can take up your post again as the heroine of this story, but I assure you, this is a battle you can't win. Believe me, I've tried. So my advice to you is to walk away from this sinking ship as fast as your legs can carry you and don't ever look back."

By the time he had finished, Hermione's eyes shone with something that looked a lot like unshed tears but they were quickly chased away by her humorless laugh. "You obviously don't know anything about me if you think I will stand by and watch this injustice unfold." She raised her chin defiantly. "I realize you have a past- we all do- but you sure as hell don't deserve to pay for it for the rest of your life. Even though I've only known you for the better part of a week- I know who you are- and you are not this- this- monster they have made you out to be." She gruffly shook the newspaper as she spoke. "So whether or not you think you're worth fighting for is of no consequence to me. Because I know you are. And I will battle to the end to make this right."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. "You do know I came over here this morning fully expecting to witness you falling apart at the seams when you learned your life had been destroyed, do you not? So you can imagine it's a little off-putting that somehow you've managed to turn this around to make it appear as though my life is the one in ruins."

Her lips curved up in a smug smile. "You somehow continue to forget how seriously I take all my fake relationships," she mused. "Imagine how disastrous it would be for business if I were to let you take the fall alone."

Draco smirked at her as he sidled back over to take a seat across from her on the chaise. "And what exactly is it that you're proposing we do to set all this back to rights?"

"I've yet to sort that out. But for the time being, I think we need to carry on as if we were any normal couple- at the very least, it will prove to everyone that you've not Imperiused me." She paused to consider it. "I say we neither confirm nor deny anything to the press. After all, we are both two consenting adults who are perfectly at liberty to snog whoever we'd like," she declared, jutting out her chin as her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. "I will talk to Harry and Ron- although I'm not exactly sure at the moment what I'll say. And of course, let me handle Kingsley."

He looked over at her skeptically. "So yet again, you're doing all the heavy lifting?"

"It would seem so." Her smug smile returned, only this time it took on an air of determination. "But what is there left to do? Your parents already believe we're a couple. So who is left to consider? Theo?"

Draco grumbled thinking back to their encounter at the office and his friend's irritating presumptions about him and Granger. "I don't think Theo will require much convincing," he said cryptically.

"Well then, it's settled. Now if it's all the same to you, I think we should head into work." She rose to her feet, pausing to wait for him to do the same. When he didn't move, she folded her arms and frowned down at him. "Are you coming?"

Her resolute eyes were met with guarded skepticism. "You really think it's a good idea for us to walk into the Ministry first thing in the morning together? Do you not realize how many reporters there are going to be?"

"My mother always said 'you can't unring a bell'- so by all accounts, we've nothing left to do but own this. And I for one do not plan on cowering in a corner because of some fabricated story Rita Skeeter decided to print. If she expects this to ruin one or both of us, she has another thing coming. In fact, I think this may end up working out to your advantage with your parents. Now," she reached out her hand for his, "are you coming or not?"

He extended his hand and allowed her to pull him up. "You really are a martyr, you know that?" He peered down at her from a distance much too close for her comfort.

Her eyes glinted with satisfaction. "So I've been told," she said, smiling as he forced himself to look beyond her shoulder toward the Floo.

"Lead the way," he muttered with anxious trepidation, placing his hand on the small of her back and nudging her forward.