A/N: Thanks again to sunshine_katz for proofing this for me! And for keeping me updated on all the exploits of Tom and Emma. =D

Leftovers:

Chapter 7

Draco followed Granger as she passed through Castle Sforza, wending their way through Parco Sempione until they came to the Bridge of Mermaids. The Ponte delle Sirenetta, as it was known by the locals, straddled a large pond in the middle of the park. Two stone mermaids flanked the entrance to the bridge, which itself was surrounded by trees.

"According to the Italian liaison, we need to stand two-fifths of the way across the bridge," Granger said, staring at a coin she held in her left hand. The silver-coloured piece bore the symbol of a baby eating a snake; on its reverse, a mermaid holding a trident. Draco held a similar coin in his right palm.

"Then with our backs to the fountain while standing on one foot, we toss the coin behind us with our non-dominant hand over the opposite shoulder."

"You have to admire the Italians for their simplicity."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw the side of Granger's mouth lift up.

"Then a portal should appear that only we can see. They didn't provide much guidance after that."

Granger glanced around the space full of tourists, probably thinking the same thing as him. There would have to be heavy Unplottable and Muggle-Repelling charms at work for their entrance to go unnoticed.

"I'll go first," Granger offered. She turned toward him, back now facing the bridge railing. "It didn't specify which leg to stand on or which side, so I'm going to assume it's unimportant." She lifted her left foot and immediately wobbled. Their hands darted out at the same time, grabbing each other's shoulders.

"Sorry," Granger said, eyes fixed on his chest. "It's not often I'm called upon to be a flamingo," she said with a huff.

"Still beats being flushed down a toilet." He shuddered just thinking about it. Thankfully that method of entry into the Ministry had reverted back to the old telephone booth soon after Voldemort had been defeated.

Granger's head whipped up, and she grinned. The skin around her inner eyes crinkled, drawing Draco's attention to the nearly imperceptible freckles across the bridge of her nose. "Can't argue with that."

Draco dropped his hands from her shoulders, taking a step back.

This time Granger's flamingo impersonation was flawless. Using her left hand, she lobbed the coin over her right shoulder. She spun around to look into the waters below.

Nothing happened.

"Maybe you need to stand on your other foot," he suggested.

Granger looked over her shoulder. "You don't see it because you need to toss in your coin."

Ah.

The instant his coin splashed into the pond, he could hear the water rush away from the four-foot square directly below them. The ground rolled back like a carpet, and a staircase appeared at their feet, disappearing into the darkness below. Groups of Muggles stood within five feet of them, taking pictures, oblivious to the magical portal that had just opened.

Draco gestured towards the yawning void. "Ladies first."

"Always a gentleman," Granger said, rolling her eyes as she stalked down the stairs into the dark.

"I know you're terrified," he called after her. "But don't worry. I'm right behind you."

"How reassuring." She paused mid-step and turned around. "And I'm far from terrified. Have you forgotten that I'm a Gryffindor?"

"If only I could. But you seem determined to remind me at every possible opportunity."

"A poorly illuminated staircase does not frighten me," she said. "Or any other self-respecting Gryffindor."

"Nor should it. Your utter lack of balance and coordination, on the other hand, would make even Godric quake in his boots."

"And here I thought you only cared about yourself. Your concern is deeply touching," she said as she spun back around.

In spite of her markedly slower gait as she took the next steps, Draco frowned. He wasn't concerned, was he? Well, not out of the ordinary way at least. It was simple common decency not to want another person to plummet to their death, regardless of how attractive he may or may not find them.

Bolstered by those thoughts, he followed close on her heels. Flickering torches dotting the cavern walls did little to light their way. From what he could see, the stairs on which they trod were hewn from stone, extending so far below he could not make out where they ended. On one side was a rock wall, on the other, a railing made of old rope that was the only thing standing in the way of a precipitous drop. Mercifully, the staircase was wide.

They had not descended more than ten feet when the opening in the pond above them closed, practically plunging them into darkness. Draco withdrew his wand from his robes, adding another Lumos charm to the one Granger had just cast. He didn't know what to do with his other hand. It hung in the air between their bodies, poised to grab her if she stumbled.

She stopped abruptly, turning around again. Her eyes narrowed at his quasi-outstretched hand.

Draco glared right back, glad that the insufficient lighting hid the heat climbing up his neck and face. It was a perfectly natural inclination to protect her. He had no reason whatsoever to feel embarrassed, in spite of what Granger might think.

"If you tripped, everyone would accuse me of pushing you down the stairs," he snapped.

"You know," she said softly, glancing at her wand as she rolled it between her fingers, "if I were to suddenly plummet down the staircase Arresto Momentum would work just as well."

Draco had forgotten the spell any second year should know in front of the brightest witch of the

age, and resorted to Muggle means to protect a girl he formerly berated for being Muggle-born.

He did not think it possible to feel more humiliated. The gentleness of her reminder only made it worse.

Granger coughed. "Speaking of spells, we should charm our shoes so we don't slip and break our necks. I'll just..."

The light of her wand moved in a close approximation of the shape of a shoe before she angled it towards their feet. Faint blue flames flickered over their boots, dissipating into the leather.

Draco lifted his foot; it was not permanently bound to the floor, but it took a bit of effort to move. Like he had salt water taffy stuck to the soles of his boots.

"I'm not familiar with that one," he admitted, if only to break the silence.

"You wouldn't be. I came up with it while Harry, Ron, and I-" Granger cleared her throat. "I made it up while we were hunting for Horcruxes. Lots of dangerous terrain. It's a modified Stickfast Hex."

The temperature dropped the further they descended, though the humidity did not relent. Draco could hear the steady dripping of water from the ceiling and cast a silent shielding charm over their heads.

"I hear running water," Granger said.

Draco hummed in acknowledgement.

The staircase must have been spelled to seem longer than it was, for not two minutes later they had reached the bottom. They now stood on a large stone platform that sloped slightly into black waters.

In the darkness, about thirty feet away, a floating, hazy light blinked into existence, drawing closer at a steady rate. As it approached, he could make out that it was the lantern on a gondola, carrying a faceless figure draped in a black hooded cloak.

Draco laughed. "Good to see the Dementors were able to find work again after Shacklebolt fired them."

"It's so bloody cold in here, one would think it really was a Dementor," Granger said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "Personally, I've had my fill of depression and despair for the year."

"No kidding," he said without thinking.

Their eyes met, and Granger's brows lifted mischievously. "I cast an excellent Patronus charm. They won't even know what hit them."

So Granger could cast a Patronus. Draco was intrigued to say the least, though he shouldn't have been surprised. She could no doubt handle the most complex spell work. And no matter how crappy her life seemed, she always struck him as having limitless reserves of hope and happiness. A living embodiment of the charm itself.

Conversely, if he were to try to cast a Patronus, maggots would probably spew from his wand and gobble him up.

Draco shook his head, driving the thought away. "Do you have your second coin?"

She held it up in answer as the boat glided to a stop in front of them, docking itself without the spooky gondolier moving a finger.

"Let me guess, your name is Charon," Draco drawled, pulling his coin from his pocket.

A bright burst of laughter issued forth from beneath the hood before two dainty hands flicked it back, revealing the face of a woman their age. "Actually, it's Francesca," she said, walking towards them.

They deposited their coins into the ferrywoman's outstretched hand, and she helped them on to the gondola.

"Welcome to the Italian Council of Magic," Francesca said. "As you can see, we have a flair for the dramatic here."

"Really," Granger said flatly. "You mean Death doesn't welcome visitors at the other Ministries?"

"Only for you, Signorina Granger and Signore Malfoy. It is not often that I have the privilege of ferrying such famous passengers," Francesca said, then giggled. "I am kidding, of course. I just wear the cloak because it's freezing down here. Fortunately, it won't stay this way for long."

Draco took his seat next to Granger on what he soon discovered was a very narrow bench. He angled his body away from her, but it had the unfortunate effect of bringing his side flush with hers. Shivers coursed over her slight frame, and sitting as they were, he felt her tremble beside him. Despite the cold, Draco's cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

He stole a quick glance over at her. Her arms were covered in goose flesh. Good manners dictated that he offer her his robe, but his mouth was inexplicably dry. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Would you like my cloak?"

Granger furrowed her brow, as if she didn't understand his question. Then her eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh. I'm not actually-" She pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap. "I'll be fine."

Draco blushed again, embarrassed at her rejection of his chivalry. "Suit yourself." If she wanted to freeze, it was no business of his.

By some unspoken agreement, they shifted away from each other, causing the gondola to rock in the water and their knees to brush against each other.

"I'll just move to another bench," Draco said, rising to stand. A firm hand pressed down on his shoulder as Francesca used him as leverage to return to her place at the back of the gondola.

"Best not to overturn the boat. Please sit back and relax as we journey to the other side."

Relax. Even though the witch of his (highly suggestive) dreams was rubbing her bare legs against his. Relax. Even though he couldn't seem to stop wanting to help a witch who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Relax. Even though the gondola was entering a narrow tunnel, and he could feel the walls closing in around him as they descended deeper into the dark.

Right.

"As I speak we are passing under Parco Sempione. The Council of Magic is situated directly beneath the Arco della Pace, though it existed hundreds of years before Napoleon erected the Arch. But even though we are underground, things are not quite so dreary and dank. The ceiling of the cave is enchanted to reflect the weather outside, while the temperature of the air stays a perfect 23 degrees.

"Once we dock, you'll need to register your wands with security," Francesca continued. "Then you will be able to Apparate between the Plaza and wherever it is you are staying. They should also be able to connect your hotel lobby or rooms to the Floo Network, so you won't need to use the Visitor's Entrance next time. May I ask where you are headed?"

"The Department of International Magical Cooperation," Granger said.

"Ah. That's in the east wing. Third floor."

Apparently finished with her orientation, Francesca began to hum until eventually she burst into song. The words echoed off the nearby walls, amplified by the enclosed space. It was in no language Draco recognised.

Her voice was actually quite lovely. Under normal circumstances, Draco would have enjoyed the impromptu performance, but he couldn't escape the feeling that he was on a date with Granger, being serenaded with love songs while they floated through a river cave.

Granger, though, seemed woefully oblivious to the romantic atmosphere. But then why wouldn't she be? She did not see him in a romantic light. Not that he cared in the slightest.

As the song progressed, Granger moved in increments towards Francesca's voice. The smallness of the bench meant she could not turn around fully, but Granger was a persistent witch. First, she turned to the side, dragging her knees along Draco's outer thigh. Then she pulled her legs up onto the bench, pressing the length of her calves against him. She further contorted her body, bracing her left hand against the side of the gondola, while the fingers of her right hand tapped on her ankles, brushing against his robes. He would have pushed her away, only...well, he didn't want the boat to capsize, did he? Just as he began to worry that she would fall into his lap, the song came to an end.

"It sounds so forlorn. What is the song about?" she asked, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It's from a Muggle opera. A water nymph is pleading with the moon to reveal her love to a handsome prince."

"And does he find out? Does he love her back?"

Francesca shrugged. "Yes, for all the good it does them. They both die at the end, but that's romance for you." The gondoliera gasped, no doubt remembering she was speaking to two of the jilted points of a scandalous love rectangle. "I mean, what a tragedy," she said in a poor attempt to pass it off.

Granger slumped against the side of the boat. "Well, you have a beautiful voice."

"Yes, it's very pretty," Draco added, eager to change the subject.

His words startled Granger out of her reverie, and she finally seemed to realise what an uncomfortable position she had placed him in, as she scrambled away from him as if he was on fire.

"Signorina, careful! Do not rock the boat!" Francesca nearly shouted.

"Sorry," Granger yelped, resuming her pre-song position, though she folded in on herself so that no part of them was touching.

"No need to jump out of the boat. I don't have the plague!" Draco hissed.

"I never said you did," Granger said in a small voice. Draco ignored her wounded tone, smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes.

Francesca's fingernails clacked against the handle of her oar, punctuating the silence.

Eventually, she said, "I must thank you for your compliments! My dream is to sing at La Scala. I just work here to pay the bills."

"That's a Muggle opera house. Is there no wizarding equivalent?" Granger asked.

"None worthy of comparison," Francesca said with a sigh. She straightened, pointing ahead to where the light had begun to permeate the darkness. "Here we are!"

Draco squinted as they left the tunnel, emerging into a wide, eye-blindingly bright area. The gondoliera brought the boat to a stop, docking it near a large open-air plaza. A five-story U-shaped building towered over the square, encompassing it on three of its sides. The courtyard was awash in colour; wizards and witches bustled about wearing a veritable rainbow of robes.

"Thank you for ferrying us here, and for the lovely song," Granger said as she alighted from the boat.

"The pleasure was mine, Signorina Granger," Francesca said, with a wink and a curtsey. Then she looked at Draco. "I would advise Signore Malfoy to avoid the fountains if at all possible."

Granger's eyes darted to his, her eyebrows raised in question. He stared down at the dock, directing his energies to getting out of the boat without stumbling, rather than to the sinking feeling in his gut.

Preempting any awkward questions from Granger, Draco waved towards the front of the pier.

"There's the security desk." Withdrawing his wand from his robes, he walked on.

As they approached, the guard manning the station made a point of frisking Granger with his eyes. When he saw Draco watching him, his lips curled in a sneer.

Whatever. Draco was neither Granger's boyfriend nor her friend, and he certainly owed no explanations to a presumptuous stranger.

"Hermione Granger," she announced to the security officer as she held out her wand.

"And Draco Malfoy," the guard said, crossing his arms over his chest.

His reputation had preceded him. Perhaps he'd jumped to conclusions regarding the man's interest in Granger. Now that he thought of it, his former Death Eater ties better explained the guard's stony reception.

Without asking, Granger placed her hand on the grip of Draco's wand. When he didn't resist, she took it and joined it with hers. "And you're Andrea Zambrotta."

The guard blinked.

"It's on your name tag," she said, tapping the corresponding place on her chest. Then she turned the sticks of hawthorn and vine towards herself, thrusting the back ends at the guard. Her lips curved in the imitation of a smile. "We have business with the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and we do not wish to be late. Kindly register our wands so we can get to work."

Andrea regarded the extended wands as if they were dripping with Bubotuber Pus but finally took them.

After scanning the wands, Andrea set them aside. Opening a ledger, he took out a rather sad excuse for a quill. The feather had seen better days; no doubt Andrea's greasy fingers were to blame for its matted appearance.

"Which hotel are you staying at?" he asked.

"Hotel Magico Milano," Granger said.

"Room number?"

"313."

"And his?"

"Malfoy's room number?" Granger squeaked.

"No, the man behind you."

Granger scowled, but was still too busy dying from embarrassment to answer, so Draco did for her. "313."

The guard's quill paused and his brows furrowed. When he looked up, Draco made sure to meet his gaze head on. "I see," Andrea said.

"It's not what you think," Granger said, finger raised in objection.

The guard winked at her. "You are not the first girl to fall for the bad boy."

"Not that it's any of your business, but it was a booking error made by our employer," Granger said.

Andrea started scribbling in his ledger again. "As you say, what or who you do in your own time is none of my business."

Draco saw Granger stare at him in disbelief. Having grown up Gryffindor, she must have expected others to right wrongs, but that was not the Slytherin way. Besides, there was no point. The guard was already convinced of their illicit affair. However, he would never see the guard again, but had to stay in the hotel with Granger for the next five nights. So in order to keep the peace: "She's right. She detests me."

"That's not true. You detest me. And if I do, it's only because you did first."

Andrea looked her over again. "My apologies, signorina. May I make it up to you by buying-"

"No. Now could you please hurry up? We have somewhere to be."

Probity Probe in hand, Andrea scanned them for dark artefacts and concealment spells. His face soured when nothing registered as it passed over Draco.

Once that was done, it only took a minute to finish the wand registration process and connect their hotel lobby to the Floo Network.

"Thank you," Granger said crisply, holding out her hand for their wands. As soon as they were in her palm, she strode past the guard stand and into the crowded plaza.

"So unprofessional," she hissed, walking away at such a clip Draco had to pick up his pace. "If we're late, I'm going to have a long talk with his manager." Granger glared over her shoulder at Andrea's back.

Draco caught her by the elbow just before she collided with another witch. "Slow down. We still have plenty of time."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. "You're right. Perhaps I'm overreacting."

Draco knew better than to comment.

"May I have my wand back?" he asked instead.

"Sorry." She quickly turned it over, then ran her hand through her tempestuous hair. "Now where is the East Wing? I feel all turned around, and I can't tell if that enchanted sun can actually be used to tell directions."

Draco scanned the square and easily found what he was looking for. The fountains were right in the middle of the plaza, about a hundred feet from where they were standing. Elevated about ten feet over the ground, a woman carved from marble danced, mostly nude. Her indecent bits were covered by her hair and some strategically placed bubbles, which floated around her as she flirted with anyone who happened to make eye contact with her. Raised above the other parts of the fountain, she frolicked in an open half-shell. Water poured from the base of her feet, splashing into a pool below where a gossip of mermaid princesses swam. Jets of water shot up from the points of their crowns, creating a fine mist about the fountain. It looked like it was trapped inside a rainbow.

Granger cooed in awe. Then she must have noticed what he did.

A group of protestors marched back and forth in front of the fountains, waving signs and shouting inane chants. Normally, Draco regarded such overzealous displays with contempt. This time, he felt sick to his stomach. His mugshot plastered one of the posters. Not his best look. He had been released that very same day, but the photo would forever immortalise his stint in Azkaban. He recognised some of the other faces on the signs too. A pattern quickly emerged—all were Voldemort sympathisers or known Death Eaters.

The words "Morte ai Mangiamorte" were emblazoned in the glowing green of an Avada Kedavra on more than one poster, and even if Draco hadn't been able to figure out what that meant, the protestors so courteously provided the English translation: "Death to Death Eaters."

Granger stepped in front of him, blocking his line of sight to the fountains. Holding her open palm up between them, she placed her wand in it. "We can use a Four-Point spell to find out which direction is east." She uttered the incantation, and the wand spun towards the wing of the building located on his right.

He knew this was nothing more than a distraction for his benefit, but if Granger feared he would confront the mob, her worry was misplaced. His best bet was to quietly make it into the building, avoiding the attention of this angry group of strangers who apparently hated him.

"Lead the way," he said.

Granger opened her mouth, probably to argue with him. Having gained his easy acquiescence, she started towards the building.

Like most things over the past couple of years, the odds were not in his favour. Nor did they improve.

The closest entrance into the East Wing was closed due to construction. So was the next one. The entrance after that would bring them within twenty feet of the protestors.

Sure enough, a group of four wizards broke away, rushing over to bar their entrance.

Draco felt the blood drain from his face, but he gave them his haughtiest sneer. His fingers tightened around his wand as he readied himself for a fight.

As he raised his arm, a foul hex on the tip of his tongue, Granger interposed herself between him and the protestors. He jerked his wand back, but before he could yell at her for stepping into the line of fire, she was addressing his targets.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

"The brightest witch of the age should not ask such stupid questions, especially when she already knows the answer," one of them responded.

"While I appreciate the compliment, it does not explain why you are barring our way. We are here on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic's Department of International Magical Cooperation, and we have a meeting to attend. Please move to the side so we may pass," she said in cold, clipped tones.

The tallest of the four wizards stepped into her personal space, dwarfing Granger by nearly a foot. He leered down at her. "A pretty witch like you should know better than to spend time with a Death Eater. Who can say what bad things will happen to her?"

This had gone on long enough. Draco opened his mouth to unleash a scathing retort and draw their attention to him, but he was too late.

Granger's wand appeared from nowhere, aimed right under the tall one's chin. "Draco Malfoy has been tried in our courts and found innocent. Moreover, since you're the one issuing unsubtle threats and ogling me like a demented satyr, you're the last person who should be passing judgment. Now move before I move you myself."

As Granger spoke, the hairs on the back of Draco's neck and arms rose. But that was nothing in comparison to what was happening to her hair. The tight curls unfurled, radiating from her scalp in all directions. Malfoy stood fixed to the spot, fascinated by how the undulating ribbons of her hair crackled with sparks of light. Draco clenched his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her hair.

The wizard stepped aside, shooting them both a dirty look. Draco took in a deep breath, feeling the weight of water and Granger's magic in the air.

"Come on, Malfoy, let's go." She reached for his hand without turning around. One does not argue with a witch whose hair was on the verge of shooting out lightning bolts. He took it.

"Typical. He needs a woman to fight his battles for him," one wizard hissed as they entered the building hand in hand.

As far as insults went, it was rather boring. Especially in comparison to the bout of accidental magic he'd just witnessed. Or Granger's warm fingers wrapped around his. Heretofore, he'd only known the feeling of her hand as it delivered a stinging blow against his cheek. Draco wasn't sure which feeling predominated: irritation, depression, or awe.

When was the last time he'd held hands with anyone?

Granger did not stop moving, even long after the doors shut behind them. Dragging Draco down the halls, she grumbled, "Honestly! Why is everyone hellbent on making us late? And where is stupid security when you need them? Spend an age checking our wands, but do absolutely nothing to prevent a near riot. Bloody ridiculous!"

Ah. That made much more sense. Of course her true upset was not at his mistreatment, but at the fact that they had been further delayed.

They had made a series of turns when Granger suddenly stopped short, causing Draco to nearly crash into her. "I have no idea where we are."

She must have become aware that their fingers were still intertwined. She let go and shook her hands, like she was flinging excess water off of them. "I think the adrenaline rush finally wore off."

He had no idea what that meant. Before Draco could decide if he wanted clarification, Granger hailed a wizard passing by.

When the man looked at Granger, his eyes widened, and he jerked his head back slightly.

What was it with Italian men and their fascination with Granger? Every last one seemed to be checking her out.

"How may I help you, signorina?"

"Could you please tell me where to find the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

"Make a left up ahead, and it will be the second doorway on your right."

"Thank you!"

"Though you may wish to visit the restroom beforehand, which is right behind you." He winked at her, tapping his head before walking away.

Granger's hands shot to her hair and Draco realised the man's reaction to her had been directed more towards her current hairstyle (or lack thereof) than the fairness of her person.

Probably.

"Oh no!" she said, aghast.

Draco followed her as she raced to the bathroom and flung the door open. In the mirror, he saw her frown as she furiously patted down her hair.

"Why didn't you tell me I look like I stuck a fork into an electrical outlet?" she said with a groan.

"You and your Muggle phrases. I hardly know what you're saying half the time."

She spun around to glare at him. "Don't play dumb. My hair! It looks awful."

"I didn't notice."

"Right. You think my hair always looks hideous. So why would this be any different?"

Not true! Less than five minutes ago, he thought he'd never seen anything so alluring as her hair. His fingers still tingled; the longing to run them through her curls had yet to dissipate.

"Your hair isn't hideous. Though in a certain light, it is a bit reminiscent of an esteemed professor of Divina-"

"Draco Malfoy, if you value your life, you will shut your mouth this instant."

He pressed his lips together into a straight line in a valiant effort at seriousness, but the habit was too ingrained. The corner of his mouth lifted in his customary smirk.

Her eyes flickered up from his mouth to meet his gaze. She turned back to the mirror. "This isn't funny. We're about to meet everyone, and my hair looks, it looks...Do I really look like Trelawney?"

"No. Just Trelawney-esque."

Granger squared her shoulders, but he could see the way her lower lip trembled and the difficulty she had swallowing.

"Are you going to cry?" he asked, eyes wide.

Granger shook her head, but still let out a sniffle.

"I can't believe this. You're falling to pieces because of your hair, when not five minutes ago you were ready to face down four wizards." For you, his traitorous mind interjected. In a gentler tone, he said, "Since when do you care about the way you look?"

Judging by the way her face crumpled, it was the wrong thing to say. She turned away from him, avoiding his gaze in the mirror while she fiddled with her hair.

"Just because I don't spend millions of galleons and hours on my appearance doesn't mean I want to look ugly. Just once I'd like to make a good first impression."

Something about her words made his heart feel funny. Draco shook his head. "I only meant that you aren't bothered about such superficial things."

Granger dabbed at her eye with a tissue. "You insult my clothes, my hair, my inability to keep a boyfriend. Need I go on."

"That doesn't mean I think you're ugly."

Granger rolled her eyes. "Right."

"I-I've never said that. I don't...I think...You-You're quite..." Pretty. Attractive. Lovely. Beautiful. Delicate. Exquisite. Any of those words would have been accurate descriptors. Any of them would have been better than what he actually said, which was nothing.

Granger's shoulders fell, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. "There's no point in both of us being late. Go ahead. I'll be there in a minute," she said, still running her fingers through her hair.

Gods, he was an enormous git.

Against his better judgment he stepped behind her and into the apricot and vanilla scented-cloud that floated around her. Taking her hands in his, he held them down at her sides. "Stop. You're making it worse."

She flinched as he touched an unruly curl by her temple. "There's just this one piece." His fingers slipped into her hair, and he clenched his jaw, trying not to betray in any way how surprised he was at how soft it felt. Not that she would have noticed, as she'd squeezed her eyes shut the second he'd started fixing her hair.

Taking the curl between his thumb and forefinger, he pulled down its length a few times, smoothing it as he went. The back of his hand brushed against her cheek as he worked, each moment of contact causing Granger's eyelashes to flutter. When he was satisfied at the way it looked, he used his wand to cast a fly away charm.

"There," he said, so quietly even he could barely hear it.

Granger's eyes snapped open. She immediately raised her hands to touch her hair, but he caught them.

"Leave it alone. You look perfect."

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned pink, an identical look to the one he was now sporting. She dropped her gaze from his, but did not turn around.

"Right. Well, we should go," he said. Not waiting for a response, he exited the room. Checking his speed so it didn't seem like he was running away, he kept a steady pace as he walked to the meeting room.

What was wrong with him? In less than a week, he'd lost all control—first over his dreams, then his thoughts, feelings, and mouth. He had intended to be nice to her, not act like a besotted fool. Attraction was not affection, and he would do well to remember that. The last thing he needed was for Granger to use these new vulnerabilities against him. Though something inside told him she wouldn't do that, he did not get this far in life by exposing these kinds of weaknesses to...well, anyone.

Thankfully, they reached the department without incident. A secretary led them to a meeting room, and by some miracle they weren't even the last ones there.

A good-looking witch greeted them at the door, introducing herself as Venus Bonaventura. In contrast to Granger's bright red robes, Venus was dressed in vibrant greens that matched the color of her eyes. She was shorter than Granger, especially as Granger's wild curls added an inch to her height. Venus's straight black hair was pulled back from her face in an elegant chignon, and a pair of gold-framed eyeglasses sat on a patrician nose free from the freckles sprinkled on Granger's.

With a smile, she directed them to two of the four remaining open seats, but continued to stand. Pacing between what was presumably her seat and the door, she waited a few more minutes before saying, "I had hoped to start promptly. Unfortunately, my coworker is nowhere to be found. But no matter! We can take a few minutes to introduce ourselves."

Draco looked at the others seated at the large, rectangular table. The Ministry had provided name plates along with the country the witch or wizard was from. Besides Italy and Britain, there were delegates from Germany, France, Norway, Holland, Spain, Portugal, and Greece. The others he couldn't see from where he was seated.

The Norwegian contingent on Malfoy's right went first. As they were going in a clockwise order, he and Granger were next. He'd always hated these kinds of things, and it had increased ten-fold with his added notoriety as a former Death Eater. Standing beside Harry Potter's Golden Girl would do him no favours either.

They stood in unison, and he had just opened his mouth to share his name when a tall, dark-haired wizard sauntered in.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Signore Canova," Venus said in clipped tones.

Canova winked at her, and Venus huffed in disgust. "What did I miss?" he asked.

"We were just introducing ourselves," Venus said, then gestured towards Draco. "This is-"

"A woman who needs no introduction." The wizard walked up to Granger and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Who here does not know of the lovely Hermione Granger?"

Draco side-eyed the audacious newcomer. He supposed Canova would be considered attractive by the standard of most witches. And judging by the way Granger had turned the colour of her dress, she was one of those witches.

"Draco Malfoy is also here from the British Ministry," Venus pointed out.

Canova raised his chin at Draco in acknowledgement.

"Thank you," Granger said in a quiet voice. Staring at the man's shoes, she said, "Malfoy and I look forward to working with you, Signore Canova."

"Signore Canova is my many times great-grandfather. You must call me Paolo."

"We may as well get this over now. In case you were wondering, yes, he is a descendant of the Antonio Canova," Venus said in a falsely cheery way that made clear this wasn't the first time she'd shared this information.

Granger gasped. "Antonio Canova?! Cupid and Psyche's Antonio Canova?"

Again, Draco had no idea what she was talking about.

Paolo waggled his eyebrows at Granger. "So you have heard of him?"

"Of course! That's one of my favorite statues, Signore Canova."

"May I say, you look just like Psyche."

"Oh! Here we go again," Venus grumbled, throwing her hands in the air.

Paolo smiled up at Hermione. "Ignore her. She is jealous, just like in the myth. Though she has no reason to be." He raised his eyes to Venus, "You are as beautiful as your namesake."

The witch scowled, but she adjusted her glasses and looked away. "Do you plan on making love to all the delegates here? Because if so, I suggest you hurry. We are on a tight schedule."

"Forgive me," Paolo said to the others in the room. Kissing Granger's hand—which he had been holding the entire time-once more, he let it go to sit in the vacant chair by Venus, who stared straight ahead, studiously avoiding her irritating coworker.

Draco tried to pay attention to all the names, but with the name plates, it really wasn't necessary. Besides, he couldn't shake the feeling that at least a few of his coworkers didn't like him. It was nothing overt. But every time he looked at someone, they immediately averted their eyes. As if they'd been caught staring.

When introductions were over, Venus stood. "It is a pleasure to have you all here. As next year's host of the Quidditch Champions League Final, we welcome you to our beautiful city. We have a very busy schedule over the next five days, and unfortunately, we must jump right into it." She gestured to Paolo, who took that as his cue to distribute thick scrolls to everyone at the table. "Here is the agenda, along with all supplementary materials you will need for today. We will be covering copyright and trademarks for next year's mascots, as well as merchandising for souvenirs. We'll take a break for lunch at noon, but until then I hope you came ready to learn."

Draco scanned what was on docket for the remaining days—modes of transportation to the stadium and international travel, permitted and prohibited forms of advertisement, licenses for

vendors and tailgaters, security at the stadium, and an on-site visit of the pitch and stadium. Setting the agenda aside, he pulled out his parchment and pen set. Beside him, Granger did the same.

For the next two hours, Draco wrote more than he had during a study session for his O.W.L.s. His hand ached. He stopped to stretch his fingers beneath the table. Looking over, he noticed Granger fidgeting in her chair. And once he noticed it, he realised she couldn't sit still. Crossing her legs one way, and then another. Constantly flicking her hair behind her ears. Tapping her quill against the table. It was so at odds with his memories of her at Hogwarts, sitting stone still as she listened to her teachers, intent as any seeker searching for the Snitch.

Venus paused in her presentation, having forgotten something from another room. She excused herself and went to get it.

While they waited for her return, Draco leaned forward in his chair, pretending to examine Granger's notes. "Finding it hard to concentrate with Signore Amore ogling you from across the table?" he said in a low voice.

Granger wrinkled her nose. "Don't be ridiculous. He's not interested in me."

That she did not say she was not interested in Canova was not lost on him. "Then why are you squirming so much?"

"When I joined this department, I thought I'd be doing things that were important, things that would unite the wizarding world. Not listening to hours-long lectures on the rules and regulations for marketing stuffed plushies."

"Cheer up, Granger. This is important. Nothing brings people together quite like Quidditch. Or stuffed plushies."

Granger pursed her lips, but he could tell she was trying not to smile.

"You mean nothing puts people to sleep quite like Quidditch." Granger stifled a yawn. "We should have gotten coffee on our way in. I'm about ready to fall asleep from boredom."

"That's rich, coming from a girl who considers Binns's lectures on goblin rebellions as the highlight of her Hogwarts education."

"I do not!"

Venus ran back into the room. "Thanks for your patience. Let's resume with paragraph 27, subsection C on permitted phrases for Quaffle plushies under speaking enchantments."

"Oh, I forgot. You preferred Trelawney's discourses on divination," Draco whispered.

Granger reached over and pinched his side, causing Draco to shift sharply in his seat. His chair scraped across the floor with a screech. Venus stopped speaking, and everyone looked over at him.

"My apologies," he said, righting his chair. "Got a bit of a cramp."

Venus nodded, her eyes sympathetic. "If you need to, feel free to get up and walk around."

"I assure you, I'll be fine. Please continue."

"No, no. We've been sitting for far too long. Actually, we should all stretch a bit before we resume."

Paolo was the first on his feet. "Good idea."

The sound of more than 20 chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as all the other witches and wizards stood. They covered the sound of Granger's laughter as she leaned into him.

"You're ticklish, aren't you?" she said with glee.

"No."

Her fingers darted to his side, and he trapped her hand between his upper arm and ribs. Not the smartest thing to do as it wouldn't stop her from tickling him. It only gave him the knowledge of what Granger's hand felt like against his body.

He removed her hand from his person. "Do it and die."

"I know your weakness," she fairly crooned.

Draco sat down, trying to smother a smile. She really was adorable. And he was in trouble.

It was one thing to be attracted to a Granger that hated his guts. But this playful and soft incarnation of her...he had not accounted for it or the feelings she engendered in him. His idea to gain Granger's friendship, to show to himself he was someone worthwhile by getting the person who hated him most to change their mind about him, was already going to be hard. He didn't need the added complication of liking her.

And just why not? some little used organ, most definitely not his brain, asked. What is so wrong about falling for Granger?

Only everything. She was sweet now, but if she knew of this change in him, it would end in disaster. Credit to Granger. She was not the type to embarrass him for his feelings or to use them to control him, but she would never return them. He could picture it so clearly. Her big warm eyes would glisten with tears as she took his hand and gently let him down. She'd apologise for unknowingly leading him on, withdraw for his protection, and regard him with pity and sadness for the rest of her days.

This insight made that little used organ inside him ache. He could bear rejection from someone like Pansy Parkinson. She had no heart, and she'd never touched his. But if he were to fall for Granger-compassionate, intelligent, lively Granger-well, she wasn't the kind of woman you could recover from easily. She was just the type to worm her way deep down inside and change everything.

Yes. It was time to erect some barriers. He'd still court her friendship—he still had something to prove to himself. But these budding romantic feelings needed to be destroyed.

By the end of the day, he'd taken twelve feet of handwritten notes, inscribed in close hand. More importantly, he had also devised his opening salvos against his insanity. First, he'd request that Dreamless Sleep Potion. To that end, he'd already sent a message at lunch to Vincenzo to send a bottle to his room.

Second, he would do everything in his power to encourage Canova's interest in her. He'd arrange a casual dinner for them all, then bail right before they left, so Granger and Canova could enjoy a romantic evening together. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

As Granger packed up her things, Draco decided to enact phase two of his plan. "I'm going to see if I can catch that Canova chap for some dinner recommendations. Do you mind waiting?"

Granger shook her head. "Not at all. I'll just finish up here, then join you."

Draco walked out of the room. Luckily, Canova had not gotten far. He and Venus were talking in the hallway over a scroll. Neither noticed his approach.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping you could recommend some places to eat in the area."

Venus quickly rolled up the scroll. "You are not interrupting. And you lucked out. Signore Canova is quite the wizard about town. He knows all the best places. I'll leave you to it."

Canova caught the witch's sleeve before she could walk away. "Always in a hurry to go. Why don't we all go out to eat together?" Canova suggested.

Venus gave a tight-lipped smile. "Sorry. I'm busy."

"All work and no play-"

"Is necessary when your coworker is all play and no work. Have a good evening, Signore Malfoy. Signore Canova."

Draco watched Canova's gaze linger on Venus as she disappeared around the hallway with growing trepidation. He wanted someone to show interest in Granger, but it looked like he'd found someone who was already in love with someone else.

"So what kind of food are you in the mood for?" Paolo asked.

"Actually, I was thinking Italian."

"You came to the right place. There's an excellent place in the Navigli district, do you know where that is?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair. "No. I hate to impose, but if you are still available, perhaps you could show us. I know Granger would love to hear more about that artist relative of yours."

"Anything for Signorina Granger."

"Thanks, mate. We need to head back to the hotel first, but if you could meet us there in about an hour, that would be great. We're staying at the Hotel Magico Milano."

"It's a date," Canova said then left.

Draco didn't like the sound of that, which was stupid. This is exactly what he wanted. His reaction was further proof of the necessity for this course of action. Still, it couldn't hurt to stick around at dinner for a bit, make sure everything went well before disappearing. After all, how much did he really know about this Canova bloke?

Granger joined him, and they walked down the hallway together.

"So, better than a dinner recommendation, I got Canova to agree to go to dinner with us," Draco informed her.

"Oh. Ok."

"You don't sound too excited."

Granger shrugged. "Why would I?"

"Because you were slobbering all over him when you found out he was related to that Pyscho sculptor you like-"

"It's Psyche, and I did not slobber."

"You turned crimson when he paid you a compliment."

"That's not true!"

"Crimson," he enunciated crisply.

"If I did blush it's only because he singled me out in front of my peers and called attention to my physical appearance in a context that has nothing to do with looks. You would have been embarrassed too."

"What you have just described is called flirting, Granger. Most people would find it flattering."

"Maybe, if it came from a guy who didn't flirt with anything that had a pulse."

"You were the only one he showed attention to."

"And Venus!"

She had a point, but he was not ready to give up on his scheme just yet.

"You should give him a chance. He's clearly smitten with you."

"Smitten?" Granger guffawed. "What has gotten into you?" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. Are you using me to go on a double date so you can get close to Venus?"

"She's not coming. And if I were interested in Venus, I would just ask her out. I wouldn't hide behind you to get to her."

"Sure, you wouldn't."

"She's not my type," Draco said as he opened the door that led out onto the plaza, and Granger passed through.

"Then why the sudden interest in my love life?"

"Can't I be nice every once in a while?"

"You already outfitted me for the entire week. You've hit your quota for the year."

Any answer would be better than the truth. Draco lowered his voice and looked into her eyes, aiming for sincerity and concern. "I didn't want to bring this up, but since you keep asking...It's clear that the whole Weasley incident has affected your self-confidence."

"You pity me?" she said.

"Of course not. But why shouldn't you have fun? And with someone who is ten times better than Ronald Weasley."

"I'm taking a break from romance. Possibly for the next decade."

"You can't let Weasley have that kind of power over you. He isn't pining. Why should you?"

"I don't see you putting yourself out there."

"I told you, I'm not interested."

"And if someone came along that caught your eye, you'd go for it?" she challenged.

No. He would set her up on a date with another wizard because the idea of making himself vulnerable to the girl who had every right to hate him (and probably did) was his own personal Boggart.

Instead he said, "If the circumstances were right, yes. But they aren't."

"So you are interested in someone!"

"Don't be ridiculous. The only thing I'm interested in is playing Cupid to your Psyche."

Hermione burst into laughter. "I highly doubt that."

"Psyche's the girl's name, right? The one Canova compared you to?"

"Yes, but-"

"And Cupid is that chubby little angel that makes people fall in love."

"Actually, he's a handsome god that-"

"Even better! I'm perfect for the role."

"Cupid's not Psyche's matchmaker, you idiot. He's her lover."

Thank Salazar he was so palely complected that she couldn't see the blood drain from his face. But in spite of his abject embarrassment, it was clear she didn't think he actually liked her. For her it was all a joke. He just needed to play it off.

Granger crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Is that what you want, Malfoy? To be my lover?"

His mind scrambled for something to say. Should he play along with the "joke" and say yes, or pretend grave offense and disgust? This might be one of those cases where it was best to hide in plain sight.

He opened his mouth to say yes.

Instead, he heard, "Death Eater scum!"

Both he and Granger spun around, looking for the source of the insult. It was the tall wizard who'd harassed them earlier. He held his wand aloft, sneering at them.

"Che schifo! A witch like you should know better. Perhaps you will not find your boyfriend so handsome now."

In an upward slashing motion, the wizard rent the air with his wand and shouted, "Calvorio!" A purple beam of light sprung forth from his wand, barreling towards Draco. He didn't have time to blink, let alone move, yet he found himself sprawled facedown on the cobblestones.

He whipped his head over his shoulder to see Granger standing over him, wand in hand. After she'd pushed him to the ground, she must have disarmed the attacker, because the man was still struggling to get up from the ground.

In horror, Draco watched as a purple light hovered around her hair like a halo before disappearing into her curls. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed her by the shoulders. His eyes darted over her, inspecting her for any damage, but she looked fine. Just a little pale.

"Why did you do that?" he shouted, wanting to shake her and barely refraining.

Granger blinked up at him, clearly dazed.

"Did he hurt you? Are you OK?" he asked. Gods, if she was hurt...

"I think so."

Draco sighed in relief. She was alright. She was safe.

Granger shook her head as if it to clear it. "We should probably call security."

Fuck security. He'd handle this himself.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Not waiting for her answer, Draco launched himself at the attacker, who had just gotten to his feet. Wrestling him to the ground, they grappled for a few seconds before Draco managed to get the wizard beneath him. He grabbed at the man's robes, tearing them as he jerked the wizard's face towards his own. "What did you do to her?" he yelled through bared teeth. "If you hurt her…"

Draco couldn't finish the threat. He couldn't think.

The man snorted. "Hermione Granger is hardly defenseless, and the spell was meant for you, you preening peacock." And then he spat on Draco's face.

Draco slowly wiped the saliva from his cheek. He stared at his hand for a second before drying it off on the man's robes. Then Draco slammed the wizard's head against the ground.

That got his attention.

"What did you do?" Draco snarled.

He clawed at Draco's hands, but Draco didn't let go. "She should have not gotten in the way. It was meant for you, not her," he babbled.

"Don't make me ask again."

"Nothing lethal, nothing that can't be fixed. I swear it. It's only-"

That was all Draco needed to hear. Drawing back his arm, he slammed his fist into the man's face. His hand throbbed, but he barely felt it. Could only feel his heart pounding in his chest, the blood pulsing through his body. Everything seemed to disappear but the sorry excuse for a wizard curled into the fetal position below him. He didn't know how many strikes he got in. He just knew he couldn't stop. He didn't stop.

A scream pierced through his rage-induced fog.

Hermione.

Draco's head shot up just as he was struck with a Body-Binding Curse. As he hit the ground, he saw that Granger was nowhere to be seen.

To Be Continued

A/N: Thank you for (still) reading.