A/N: And we have finally reached the end! I am both sad and extremely happy that this is FINALLY over. This has been difficult to write (as a lot of you are aware of) and at times was almost impossible. So I thank you for sticking with me all this time! I apologize for the delay in getting this out.

A couple of things before you read this last chapter:

1. This is a sort of alternate ending. You could choose to leave it off at the last chapter if you find it more suitable. I myself prefer this ending, but it's entirely up to you.

2. If you left an anonymous review on the last chapter, the website seems to have glitched and not let you leave your names, so I cannot respond to any of you! I was extremely sad when I figured this out.

3. The sequel to when a stranger calls is OFFICIALLY POSTED! If you have the time (and inclination) please read and review. It would mean the world to me.

4. This chapter is written in a very confusing way. Please pay attention to the time stamps posted before every section in this chapter. It is also written entirely in Hermione's point of view. I'm not sure why I'm pointing this out, but it seemed relevant.

A special thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, alerted, and the works. To those who have reviewed the last chapter, my appreciation goes out to you:

LBpunkrock722, Ms. Louis Cordice Zabini, AliBelly, Rephiamlove, Talis Ruadair, TwinzLover, reader204, shaymars, sweet-tang-honney, Magpie93, semantics, Hilda9Achillius9Fitra, bella Malfoy Cullen, Mondo89, HarryPGinnyW4eva, IaTeYoUrMuFfInx, xoRetributionox, buttercup, Jimmie the Pirate, Jadepowell, HP-Princess1, JaspersEmotionalGirl, a fucking veela, DZAuthor AKA DZMom, Dangerous Love, silviaelisa, and all of you who left anonymous reviews.

ENJOY!

Song Selection for this Chapter: When You Were Young by The Killers

Chapter Sixteen: When You Were Young

Present Day: Diagon Alley Bistro

They had been having lunch when Ginny had popped the question.

"Hey, have you heard about Malfoy?" she asked so nonchalantly, as if his name didn't mean anything at all. Well, Hermione reasoned, it ought not to mean anything special to anyone but her, since he was virtually nonexistent to her friend circle, after all. But then, hearing his name from their mouths always did startle her, even though she had no reason to be cautious anymore. "He's plastered all over the papers."

"Ah," Hermione said, sighing in relief. "Yes, I did see that."

She'd seen it just that morning when her daily mail had been delivered. His face (And Blaise's) had been plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet and she' hadn't been able to stop herself from tearing it open and devouring it. Well... she hadn't ever denied to herself (or anyone else) that she was compulsive. And obsessive. That was as good an excuse to explain away her behaviour as any.

The article hadn't been anything bad. In fact, it was overly good, if anything was to be said about it. Malfoy Industries had finally finished its big merger with Bailey and Bailey Incorporate ad they were now celebrating their sixth month of wild success – or in other words, enjoying the fruit of a very profitable quarter.

When Draco had told her he planned to save his father's company, he hadn't been joking. He had waltzed into the office the very day he had been released from St. Mungos (Or at least, that was what the papers had reported) and had taken control of the deteriorating machine. Since then, he and Blaise had set out to re-establish the old board of directors under the guidance of one Constantine Flaharty, former head of finance.

With a few changes that Draco had demanded, of course. Draco had always told her he had despised some of those "old farts".

It had taken him (under the direction of Blaise, Flaharty, and the rest of the board) six months to get their act together and it was at that point where Bailey and Bailey Inc had decided to merge with Malfoy Industries. It had been splashed all over the various papers for weeks and Hermione had never been happier for him. It had taken the wizarding world by surprise – everyone had predicted that Malfoy Industries would surely have perished by then.

But apparently Draco had managed to make it work. She wasn't all too surprised he had managed to succeed. After all, he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, who had been a well established pureblood, politician, and business man first and only then a Death Eater maniac. Draco had learned how to be smooth from a young age.

It had only taken Draco three weeks with the Chairman of Bailey and Bailey, Zeragoza Cromwell to convince him of the merger. Zeragoza was apparently well over a hundred years old and had been secretly ready to retire for several years now, much to the surprise of his entire company. He had been only too easy to convince after Draco had presented the... evidence.

Zeragoza was apparently the ex-husband of Meredith Cromwell, her neighbour that lived down the hall. She wouldn't have even known that the lady even existed if Draco hadn't informed her of it. She'd never even met the woman, let alone known her name. Apparently, Zeragoza was still deeply in love with this Meredith person, and Draco had used this information to convince him of the merger.

Hermione wasn't even sure how Malfoy knew her closeted neighbour, let alone well enough to learn something that intimate or useful. But that was life, she supposed. That was how things progressed – entirely randomly.

And now, a year later, Draco Malfoy had been placed amongst the top ten wealthiest witches and wizards in Britain. Hermione couldn't be prouder of him than she was now. Sure, it was true that he was being directed by a bunch of people who knew more than he did about his company and how to run it, but he was learning. He'd managed to do something for himself and that was more than enough progress for a lifetime. He'd accomplished a lot in the year that had passed since the day they'd departed at St. Mungos.

As for her, she'd had a long year herself.

She had embarked on a journey the week after the "veela incident" had culminated at St. Mungos. To be honest, it had been something she'd started well back at Hogwarts, but had somehow lost her way throughout the many years since that time.

At first, it had been Voldemort, the quest for destroying Horcruxes, and fighting the inevitable war that had been brewing for nearly two decades. After that, she had had to deal with the destruction that had been inflicted during the war, repairing all the damage done to the wizarding world, healing from the damage, all the horror she had suffered through. And shortly after, her life had provided the distraction of working at the Ministry of Magic and making a life with Ronald Billus Weasley.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, Hermione felt like she had lost her way in life and lost sense of who she really was. Of course, she was no longer anything like the person she had been at the ripe age of fourteen, but at least then she had had a strong sense of who she was, what she believed in, and what she wanted out of life.

What kind of person she wanted her life to be with.

The week she had spent with Draco in St. Mungos and all of the conversations they had had on his hospital bed had made her realize that she had absolutely no idea who she was anymore. He had opened her eyes and had pushed her in the right direction.

So, that very week, she had started the Movement for the Equality of Magical Creatures, or MEMC.

And it had been hell, as she had known it would be from the very beginning. Not a lot of people were sympathetic towards many of the magical creatures she wanted to protect from abuse. It appeared some prejudices still ran far too deep. She already had sixty-four howlers just this month for promoting the welfare of Centaurs and Werewolves.

But it was all worth it in the end, because she felt more like herself every day, more sure of herself with every step she took in the right direction. She felt like she could stand on her own two feet by herself and no one could just push her over. She wouldn't bend over like she'd been doing for Merlin knew how long. She'd journey on without distractions.

This sense of confidence also caused her to finally have a meaningful conversation with Ron, explaining that she had moved on and he ought to as well. He hadn't taken it well and hadn't talked to her for at least four and a half months after that, hoping that the cold shoulder would make her reconsider. When it hadn't, he eventually seemed to get over it, though the process wasn't pleasant for either of them. She'd had to slap him on at least three separate occasions, but it seemed as if everything would be alright on that front of things.

Moe than that, she forced herself to extract herself from the shell she had somehow forced herself in. She stopped being so solitary, even if being solitary was preferable most of the time. She went out more, saw Ginny and Padma more regularly, and renewed her friendship with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys (though the second had been rather difficult). She finally stopped hiding at work, trying her best to make friends both within and outside of her department.

And she started volunteering at St. Mungos once a week at the Toxicology Ward. She made fast friends with all of the medi-witches there, who seemed to adore her.

As for her relationship with Draco Malfoy, to the world it was now non-existent, like they were both non-existent in each other's friend circles. She had told Ginny and Padma what had happened at St. Mungos, but after that she'd had no reason to discuss him with them, or anyone else. His name was rarely uttered to her in the year that followed.

They were never mentioned in the papers together, never questioned about at work. None of her friends ever mentioned his name to her, and it seemed as if he had never existed in the first place – like everything was back to normal. Like she'd really managed to come so far on her own. But she supposed that part of her life was private. She had no reason to inform anyone of her relationship with Malfoy – if it could even be called a relationship.

It was entirely true that she hadn't seen or spoken to Malfoy for an entire six months after she'd left St. Mungos that day. But on the first of July, the same day the papers for his merger with Bailey and Bailey Inc had been signed, he'd come to see her.

And it had almost been like old times.

/

Six Months Ago: Hermione Granger's Flat

She had been asleep when he'd come to her that first time.

She'd been tired that day and it had been a Saturday, so she'd figured a nap wouldn't do any harm. What could be required of her on a Saturday afternoon anyway? By now all of her friends and most of her coworkers knew that Saturday was her day of rest. It always had been. They ought to know by now if they didn't already.

So, Hermione had napped and she'd dreamt of many spectacular things on her old worn fluffy couch, wrapped comfortably in her duvet. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon, she decided. She rarely got enough sleep as it was, with everyone vying for her attention and her plate completely full at work.

There were candles burning somewhere in her apartment and they smelled delicious – like cookies, perhaps. Or was she eating them? No, someone was giving them to her. Or perhaps the oven was on and they'd be ready soon for consumption.

Oh, yes. Yes, indeed, they'd be ready soon. So very soon. She could already feel them melting deliciously in her mouth, against her tongue, oh so soft and warm. And then she would break off a piece and offer it to the pair of grey eyes just over her shoulder. Hm, that was odd. She hadn't seen those grey eyes in a while. Had they been watching her this whole time? Not that it mattered. It was very comforting having them there, being watched like so.

So comforting in fact that she didn't hear the very familiar footsteps walk up to her front door.

She was jolted out of sleep when she heard a loud bang outside her door, followed by a long string of creative curses. The noise startled her so greatly that she scrambled off the couch and onto her knees rather painfully onto her hardwood floor, still tangled in her blanket, staring blindly at the door. The curses continued and she couldn't quite get her vision to lose the fuzzy quality it had developed, half asleep as she was.

"Hello?" she called out hoarsely, and if she was being honest, a little fearfully.

All of the noises immediately ceased and a painfully awkward silence followed. Well, at the time she would have labelled those moments as utterly terrifying. Now, to save face, she just claimed it had been incredibly bloody awkward – to anyone that asked. But in reality, she had been dazed, startled right out of sleep, and at her age that really wasn't a pretty picture.

But thankfully, the moment passed rather quickly as she realized what was going on. The person on the other side of the door cleared their throat rather awkwardly and shuffled around. She stood up, not sure whether to be irritated that someone had disturbed her sleep – and her Saturday! – or scared to death. Perhaps she ought not to have let them know that she was here. She swore, if it was that new intern with more questions, she'd throw a goddamn bloody fit! She'd kill the little bugger!

"Sorry, Granger," said the intruder finally. "It's just me. Why do you have boxes of paperwork outside your door?"

And she hadn't heard that voice for a very long time.

It wasn't that she'd forgotten how he sounded like – she didn't think she could ever forget how he sounded like – but it had been far too long. Far, far too long. Six months far too long! Perhaps she was just surprised, or maybe her brain was still addled from sleeping in the middle of the day, but she couldn't find it in herself to say anything in return.

She heard him exhale heavily and slide down the wall. This only made her freeze further. That particular sound was only too familiar, much too familiar. She had heard it far too many times after all, continuously for a couple of months if she was counting correctly. And Hermione always counted correctly. But she had grown past all that. Past all of it in the last six months without him. But with him here, it was almost like she was that desperate, desolate girl waiting for an enigma to come save her from her misery all over again.

She didn't know how she felt about that, so her words were hesitant when they finally came. "What are you doing here, Draco?"

"I thought it would be nice to catch up," he said calmly. She immediately hated how he was so calm. She remembered his disposition very well and calm wasn't a part of it. Composed perhaps, but never calm. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," she responded, still hesitant. Did she want him to leave? No. Yes? Yes. No! There was really no time to decide that now. This was happening! "No. How are you? Do you um... want to come -"

He chuckled. "That's fine, Hermione. I think we're both comfortable like this."

She let go of the breath that she hadn't even been aware she had been holding in. So he didn't want to come inside. So why was he here? But it was okay. Or maybe he thought he was being considerate or something stupid like that. She wouldn't have minded if he came inside! Or perhaps she would have minded – she was in her pajamas and looked like absolute shit. So alright, maybe it was considerate after all.

But then, he'd already seen her in worse. He'd already seen her in less and there was no going back from that.

"You know, I can practically hear you thinking all the way over here." She blushed at that and wondered he knew about that too. He had to know her as well as she knew him, after all. Perhaps she was as predictable as he was spontaneous. "We don't need to be formal, love. I know how it'd be if we went through the fantastic door opening ceremony, and we don't need it. Not right now. Besides, I just needed to tell you something before I'm needed elsewhere."

She supposed she could respect that. It made sense, after all. She supposed if she was being entirely honest, she would have tried to play hostess. She knew he hated that – it was so typically pureblooded to be formal and lovely in these kinds of situations, quite a tradition in those circles – and he despised everything about that life. Especially the customs.

Well, he was nothing like she'd imagined when she had been younger.

"What did you want to tell me?" she prompted when he didn't say anything. For a second she thought he'd fallen asleep.

"My company has taken over Bailey and Bailey," he said in a rush, as if he'd just been waiting for her to ask the question. "You know, the company that owns half of Diagon Alley? Well, they're saying we partnered, but the CEO's retiring this year and they all want to put my name up for the head! Can you imagine? Me!"

He stopped, clearly out of breath from spitting out words faster than any human could possibly manage without some kind of caffeinated substance or adrenaline. She supposed he was probably high on both. For a second she wondered why he was here of all places. Why wasn't he out there, celebrating with everyone like he ought to be? Why weren't there girls draped over him left and right?

He didn't even let her consider it.

"It's absolutely crazy, Granger. What should I do? I mean, I'm not going to say no, obviously, but... This is going to be bloody insane!" He seemed something close to ecstatic. Or hysterical. Perhaps that was why he didn't want to come inside. He didn't want her to see exactly how frazzled and undone he was. "We've saved the company. Finally and for sure."

She really didn't know what to say to that, far too many thoughts and emotions flashing through her mind. So, she stuck to what was safe – absolutely foolproof.

"Congratulations! I'm so, so proud of you, Draco!"

He thanked her and it felt warm. She thought that perhaps that was what he had needed – someone to tell him that they were glad that he'd finally made it. She wasn't sure exactly what he had gone through in these past six months, but it had obviously been as grueling for him as it been for her, if not more so. Perhaps he had no one to help him feel gratified or worth it, and he needed her for what others weren't providing.

Wishing him a job well done.

Maybe he was alone and trying to make it places, but had no one there to smile when he was finished making something of himself.

So, she did for him what he so desperately needed. She smiled – oh, alright, she shrieked – and was on the urge of euphoria by the time he had finished telling her all of the details of the past six months of his life. She would have hugged him if he hadn't been too shaken to allow her to open the door, but he was probably afraid. She already knew that he wasn't used to the appreciation. She was overly familiar with his state of mind on that particular topic. They'd discussed it enough for her to not even have to ask.

Sometime later he asked her about what she'd been doing and she told him briefly of all of the successes she'd achieved at work. Later, she told him some of what had transpired in her personal life. He actually seemed genuinely pleased for her, which was rather weird. But then, it was probably weird to him that she actually gave a damn.

She was nearly asleep when he got up. It had to be at least midnight.

"I've brought you some cookies, Hermione," he said, and she smiled sleepily. She knew she hadn't imagined the smell earlier in the day. "As a thank you. I hope you enjoy them."

When she finally understood what was going on and wrenched open the door, he had already left. But that was alright, she supposed. She took in the bag of what appeared to be homemade cookies and the box of paperwork her stupid assistant had probably left her, and practically floated back inside. It was all okay.

She was walking on air for days after that.

/

Three Months Ago: Flourish and Blotts

There hadn't been much need to see each other after his surprise visit to her flat. She was neither disappointed nor sad about the development, because what would they have done if he had decided to show up again? She had a feeling that it wouldn't have gone well, that they wouldn't have had anything to say to each other.

And that would have been worse than not seeing each other at all.

Even if it was forever now. It really was for the better. She had convinced herself of it, even if it had taken her a long, long time to do so. The truth was that they were better off this way. It was nonsensical to think that it would have worked out between them, the way they had been going. It wasn't healthy to live one's life behind curtains and a relationship could only last so long behind closed doors. If they'd even had a relationship to begin with. Friendship? Perhaps.

And she had a feeling that he'd known that too and had accepted it, just like she had. They hadn't seen each other for three months and she figured that they probably never would, at least not intentionally. But it was okay because things were actually going places for her. She had helped pass two bills in just the space of three months (which had been bloody exhausting), had attended three Sunday brunches at the Weasleys (fun, but equally exhausting), and gone shopping twice with Ginny (which had killed her).

Nevertheless, it would've been nice if she could've just...

No. No, she refused to think about it.

Shaking her head to clear the absolutely unnecessary thoughts from her mind, she plastered a smile to her face and opened the door to the most fabulous place on earth: Flourish and Blotts. Ever since she'd become busy (as in, too busy to breathe) she'd stopped her weekend visits to the little piece of heaven on earth. It was rather sad and she was sure that the books and the shopkeeper missed her presence there. But what could she do? She just didn't have all that much time for leisure anymore.

Nevertheless, it felt quite good to be out and about, doing something for herself for once. As much as she enjoyed being productive and having a decent social life, it eventually became draining. Hell, she didn't have any time for herself anymore. This was going to be good for her. She didn't need anything else. She had everything she'd ever need in the aisles of this shop. Yes, she'd be absolutely satisfied.

And so, the smile that had been somewhat forced became genuine.

There was something special about this place for her. She'd been quite enamored with the whole idea of knowledge and reading and learning from a very young age, so much so that coming here was a sort of sacred ritual now. It couldn't be helped that she still got a bout of fangirl-ish excitement every time her favourite author released a new book or another addition was made to the Arithmacy section. It was just enjoyable.

Not a lot of her friends understood her passion for learning, even to this day. Why, Hermione? Why do you need to know? Certainly, most of the facts she crammed in her head (if she had the time) weren't ever going to be useful to her in her practical life. But it wasn't about that anymore.

Alright, if she were being honest, it had been at one point. Succeeding in school had been paramount and one never knew what would be useful when it came to the hazardous life of Harry Potter. The boy had been an absolute walking death trap. Every little piece of knowledge she could throw in his favour was important. And she had saved his life, after all, on several different occasions.

Perhaps after the war she had continued it as a habit, but now, now it was all different. She wasn't quite sure why she kept up to date with the newest edition of The Standard Book of Spells every time it came out just before the fall, or why she kept up with her potions knowledge. Perhaps she just liked bettering herself. Or maybe it was just nice to know things that a lot of people her age didn't bother with. Whenever anyone asked her, her response was: It's just fun.

So, alright. She was a bookworm and a nerd. Someone had been right about that.

But she didn't want to think about that someone right at that moment. In fact, she didn't want to think about anyone but Richard Moss who had just come out with a new book about counter curses. It was supposed to be fascinating. The reviews page in the Daily Prophet had given it four and a half stars – which was absolutely fantastic.

Settling in one of the many comfortably padded couches peppered throughout the shop, she began to embark on a marvellous journey with what was probably going to be her new favourite book for at least a month and a half, if not more. Of course, it would never take the place of Hogwarts: A History, because that book was just holy grail material, but perhaps it would be up there with it.

Unfortunately for her, it just wasn't meant to be a lovely trip to her favourite book store.

First, a little boy just would not stop crying. The wails of the insolent child just filtered throughout the shop to the point that Hermione just could not concentrate. No one said anything to the mother, who just ignored the wailing (what kind of a person did that, anyway?) and it was all in all, a very annoying half a bloody hour.

After the mother and her annoying little boy had finally left the store (much to the relief of nearly all of the occupants, minus the old lady that looked rather deaf to begin with), Hermione was only able to enjoy about six and a half minutes of silence. She'd barely gotten through the first chapter when a large family of seven came trampling through the store with their annoyingly loud voices and heavy footsteps.

The distractions were practically endless. Whether it was a yammering pair of teenage girls, an overly excitable child, a woman with an owl (who the hell brought pets to a bookstore?), or an extremely inappropriate man and woman who were obviously lovers, Hermione just could not concentrate. It was rather sad because these days, she couldn't find a moment of peace. Why were people conspiring against her?

That was why when an employee of the store whom she normally was rather kind to, began to chatter quite loudly with another patron, she just had to turn around and glare at the pair. She had been about to ask rather rudely for them to keep it the bloody fuck down until her eyes caught sight of the unmistakeably pale blond head of hair.

Of course he'd be here. Why wouldn't he? It was obviously fuck over Hermione Granger day.

"And what are you looking for this week?" the employee was asking. Was his name Stanley? Perhaps it was, but she couldn't remember. Maybe it was Martin. Or perhaps Thomas. "Same topic as last time?"

She could see Draco shrug, his back to her, and she couldn't keep the image of his bare, muscular shoulders from entering her mind. It wasn't her fault, really. He just had defined muscles there. Perfect to grasp... Amongst other things, of course. Like staring. Her mouth began to water slightly and she had to force herself to look away, blushing, pretending to pay attention to her now uninteresting book. Of course it'd be uninteresting! Who was she fooling? Everything paled in comparison when it came to that someone.

"What's new and interesting?" Draco asked. His voice was as smooth as always. But why wouldn't it be? He had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. Hell, he probably had no idea that she was here, listening in on him like a fucking stalker. "The last book was slightly boring, mate, no offence."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Draco Malfoy read books?

"Well!" Stanley-Martin-Thomas exclaimed in his usual jovial voice. "This week Richard Moss has come out with his newest edition, which I can lead you to if you're interested."

"Richard Moss? You mean the curse breaker?" Draco asked. Hermione's eyes widened. Draco Malfoy knew who Richard Moss was? Was she imagining the slight excitement or interest in his voice because she wanted to, or what he just that brilliant? "That does sound interesting! Lead the way, if you will."

And of course they'd walk in her direction. She'd chosen to sit down near the display of the book he was after, hadn't she? Why had she been so bloody interested in Richard Moss anyway? He wasn't that interesting, if she really thought about it. They were just curses and who cared about curses? Or counter curses, for that matter. They all could just go explode in a big pile of tar for all she cared. As long as he didn't spot her being an absolute creeper, it was all going to be blood fine –

"Hermione?"

She tried her best not to cringe at the voice, though she wasn't sure how successful she'd been in the endeavour. She glanced up from the page she'd been staring at for at least a half hour now to find him staring at her with a smile on his face. It was so obvious he knew! Fuck him, then. She just hoped she'd been nonchalant enough to save her dignity. Though, by the slight smirk on his face, she wasn't sure if he'd let her get away with it.

"Oh, hello. How's it going?" she asked flippantly, unconsciously raising the book higher in an attempt to hide behind it. "Been well?"

Draco just nodded, gesturing to the seat next to her. "Mind if I join you?"

She just nodded as if it didn't really matter if he did, even though they both knew that it mattered a hell of a lot. Why was he here? And why was he here next to her? He ought to have left like a normal person, giving her privacy and all that. He wasn't supposed to be nice, no, he was supposed to be cool and calm like he always was. Not warm. No, definitely not warm of all things to be.

They sat in silence for some time, which was rather awkward for her. Who wouldn't feel awkward in a situation like that, anyway? But every time she glanced over at him, he seemed completely relaxed (and she knew how he looked completely relaxed) absorbed in that goddamn book. She tried reading, she honestly did, but nothing seemed to stick with her. He didn't seem to notice. That was both a blessing and a curse.

Soon, she was zoning out to a dream like state. What would it be like to just smack him over the head for imposing himself on her like this? Would he laugh at her or be insanely mad? One never knew with him. He was absolutely unpredictable, quite like fire. One never knew which way he would blow. Perhaps he'd just leave abruptly. Or maybe he'd grab her by the shoulders and –

"I swear, that couple there has been snogging for at least twenty minutes now," he muttered to her. She glanced over at him, chuckling. So he'd noticed too, had he? Well, she supposed it'd be pretty hard not to notice something so in your face. "Shall we tell them to get a room?"

She grinned at that. "Perhaps. But you weren't here when the screaming kid was yelling his head off earlier."

"Must have been a nightmare," he responded with a grimace.

And then, they were sitting in silence again. Well, silence between them, anyway. The store seemed to be alive around her. But for some reason, she really didn't mind as she usually would have. Maybe it was because he had put her slightly more at ease. Slightly, because she couldn't ignore the fact that his body was right next to hers. His body hadn't been this close to hers for about nine months now. Hell, if she'd been pregnant, she would've been handing him his baby right about now...

"What do you think about this?" he asked, startling her out of her most disturbing thoughts yet. She knew she was blushing insanely red. Let him think she was hot, just please let him think she was hot. "Seems rather presumptuous, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Here, on page twenty of the introduction." He turned the pages of her copy for her and she wondered how he was so at ease with her. How could he be so familiar when he'd been away for the better part of an entire year? And then, he was reciting as if it weren't the sexiest thing she'd seen in a while. "Counter curses are not based in wand movements as many have previously believed, but rather in the subtle art of pronunciation. Surely, wand movements are equally as important as the incantation, don't you agree?"

"Well... not necessarily." It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. He probably thought she was an absolute idiot! "It doesn't have to be."

"Well, why not?" And unlike most of her friends, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say about the topic. "All elementary magic requires mastering wand movements."

"Assuming that the spell you're trying to counter is elementary and is the method in which you're countering it," she pointed out.

"Ah, yes. That's true. But even in higher grade complex spells, wand movements are paramount," he argued, waving about his hands excitedly. "How would you cast nonverbal spells without brandishing your wand?"

She laughed at his enthusiasm. It was freaking adorable. "Would you brandish about your hands like so if you were using wandless magic? That requires no wand movement, after all."

"Point taken," he conceded, looking rather serious all of a sudden. She watched him think, process something he obviously found interesting. It was strange to her that she was sitting here, discussing something intelligent with Draco Malfoy of all people. Then suddenly, there was brightness about his eyes. "Sounds a bit like Snape to me, anyhow.

"What the... how?"

His face took on a serious quality then.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few," and he gave her a pointed stare, "Who possess, the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

She couldn't believe that it was happening, really. By the time he was staring at her with his best impression of Severus Snape plastered over his all together too gorgeous of a face, she was hysterical. She had never laughed so hard.

And then, he was smirking, continuing, "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to NOT-PAY-ATTENTION."

And then they laughed until the snogging couple broke apart to glare at them. That didn't deter them at all, though. In fact, it probably made them laugh all the harder. She laughed so hard that she thought she might actually piss herself if he didn't stop staring at her like that. But it couldn't be helped, it was seriously just that funny. It continued on until Stanley-Martin-Thomas nervously asked them to keep it down, the poor fellow.

It was with a grin that they got up to leave some time later. Draco had something at work to attend to and she wasn't about to stay there by herself to get glared at by the couple that hadn't returned to snogging for some reason. Before he left her at the cashier, he gently patted her shoulder. It was familiar enough, she supposed. It was better than him sticking his hand out for her to shake. That would've been a bloody nightmare.

"I'll write to you," he had proclaimed, suddenly, as if the idea had only just occurred to him. "If you don't mind, that is."

She just smiled, shrugging, thinking that it was probably just an attempt to not leave things at an awkward ending. She really didn't mind. If seeing him after long periods of time was this much fun, she was willing to go through it again. But, she wouldn't begrudge him this. No one enjoyed leaving things awkwardly. If this was what it took to make him feel better, then it was fine with her.

When they finally did part ways, it wasn't melancholic at all. In fact, she even managed to get some shopping done! She hadn't visited the apothecary in ages and she'd definitely run out of normal ink. Her cash stash was running rather low as well, so a horrible visit to Gringotts would also be necessary. And she knew that it would be horrible because the Goblins never did like her after she'd helped their dragon escape and nearly take the building down in the process.

By the time she'd gotten home, dusk had already fallen. The moment she opened her flat door, she realized that she had mail. And, of course, who else would it be from?

Hermione,

Turn to page 394.

And she had to say, she almost died from laughing so bloody hard.

/

One and a Half Months Ago: St. Mungos Charity Fundraiser Gala

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" she pleaded, giving Ginny and Padma her best puppy dog look. "I swear it'll be fun!"

They both stared at her as if she were the hugest bloody liar in the world. Which, of course, they were right about at that particular moment in time. Everyone knew that any parties St. Mungos threw were tedious and absolutely fucking boring. It was partially why not all that many people attended unless they were obligated, forced to, blackmailed, or bribed. Hermione was in the first category and she had hoped that her two best girlfriends would have given her company.

It was not to be so, unfortunately. Ginny had begrudgingly agreed when Hermione had asked her a couple of weeks back, but when she had learned that it was Padma's night off that night, they had both insisted that she go by herself. Make a few new friends, and why not? It wasn't like there was much else to do at these kinds of parties.

And it was a charity fundraiser, which were the worst kind.

So, she plastered on her saddest looking face as she fastened her earrings to their respective ears. Still, no budging. They were really made of stone, they were, not even pitying her even the tiniest little bit. It was a cruel, cruel world when one's friends abandoned one to boredom. Hermione tried her best not to glare (and obviously failed because they both laughed at her) and slipped into her heels.

If she was going to have a dreadful night, she might as well look fabulous while she was doing it. Which was absolute bullshit, but that was what Ginny had said (and insisted). Hermione had to admit, though, she didn't look half bad. In fact, she looked rather decent according to Ginny. Well, Ginny's word had been fuckable, but Hermione preferred decent. It was rather more appropriate.

And so, she was off, apparating to St. Mungo's and walking to the conference room they had, which was really the only place big enough in the building to hold any kind of event. That they refused to just rent a hall somewhere was still incredulous, but she supposed she had to respect their scruples. Why waste money on something like that when space was readily available? But still, having a party at a hospital wasn't the best thing in the world.

Unfortunately, it was even worse than she had anticipated. She was wedged between an overweight man who seemed to think his opinion on absolutely everything mattered on one side, and badgered by a woman who was clearly too old to be wearing such a revealing dress and such an obvious wig. They both talked her ears off all through the not so appetizing dinner, which she had to eat anyway just so she had an excuse not to talk.

She was so harassed by the time dessert had come and gone that she was more than ready to get up, make her excuses, and go home. Or really, anything that would get her the fuck out of here would suffice. Maybe she ought to break her leg and spend the night at St. Mungos. That would be absolutely brilliant in comparison to fat man who was beginning to grow sweat stains under his arms. Arms that were practically pressed against her.

And then, much to her annoyance, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, ready to glare at the offender when she realized that it was none other than her saviour.

"Care for a dance, Granger?" he asked formally, as if he didn't actually know her.

She would have leapt into his arms if she'd had the opportunity, really, nodding like the maniac she was. And Draco looked rather good enough to do such a thing. He had on tailored grey robes. It was obvious that he'd figured out that black looked far too severe with his pale skin and blond hair. This was far more suitable. She had to restrain herself from showing her gratitude physically for the rescue he'd planned. And as they danced, he seemed to be rather at ease, even though she must have looked electrified.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked when he didn't say anything. He was just staring at her oddly and she couldn't quite place the stare. It meant something, though, meant something for sure. She just wasn't exactly sure what that something was. "Have you come to save me?"

"Yes," was all he said.

So, she danced with him in silence. He stared at her like he was trying to perform legilimency, so she avoided eye contact. All in all, it was rather odd and more than just uncomfortable. He was intense for some reason and she felt like she'd done something wrong. But what could it be? She hadn't seen him for some time, couldn't even remember how long it had been.

"Did you get my last owl?" she asked, attempting to start the conversation between them once again. He just nodded though, not even opening his mouth, which was disappointing. His gaze did not waver, not even when he twirled her around to the rhythm of the music. "Well, did you read it?"

Another slow nod of the head, just once. As if the answer was obvious. As if to say, why are you talking when I'm staring at you? Can you not see how busy I am? How dare you, Granger, how dare you!

So, she had to oblige him. It wasn't like she had many options to say no. He didn't let her go after the song was over, instead holding her there until the next one started. She was alright at the whole dancing thing, but he was demanding. He wanted her to move in ways that she wasn't too comfortable or familiar with, but did so anyway, because well... he made her.

Third song, fourth, then fifth, and she was sure nearly everyone in the room was staring at her by now. Or them. Probably him, if she was being more accurate. But he didn't stare at anyone else but her. It was as if he was trying to tell her something but he thought that she was far too dense to understand. Maybe he was just stressed from work, and all. Maybe he loathed everyone else in the room and couldn't even bear to set his eyes on them.

He was probably on drugs.

"My feet hurt, Draco," she whispered to him when the current song ended.

And it was technically true, her feet actually were hurting. But of course she could endure it, though he didn't have to know that. She and every other woman had endured worse – it practically came along with wearing high heels. Well, if it was the price to pay to look like you have long legs, most women were willing to pay it. He stared at her, not questioningly, but intensely. And then he led her to her chair to gather her coat.

She hadn't said that she wanted to leave, although spending time at the party wasn't exactly her number one choice. She would have stayed if he had, even if he was acting rather psychotic. Regardless, she let him put her into her coat and escort her to the apparation points near the front waiting room. Even though the walk there was at least a couple of minutes, he still said nothing and it was starting to unnerve her.

All he did was hook his arm into hers and apparate them to her flat.

He didn't wait for her to open her door and make sure that she was inside like she thought he was there to do. Instead, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said, his voice low, almost like a gravelly whisper. He leaned in to press his lips to her cheek, once then twice, in such a quick succession that she wasn't even sure it had even happened. "Sleep well."

And then he left her there, without even a glance back, leaving her to lean against her own front door, completely dazed.

She was off kilter for days afterwards.

/

Present Day: Hermione Granger's Flat

Things were going... normally. Absolutely normally. Or, as normal as she had become used to, anyway. She went to work, she saw her friends as much as time allowed, she exchanged letters with an odd man named Draco Malfoy, and she read books like a fiend.

So, yes. It was all absolutely normal.

She wasn't entirely sure whether normal was a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps it was both and something in between the two. With normal there was security and a base on which she could rely upon. With normal she knew what to expect. With normal there was nothing too strange about... well, anything. It was all predictable, reliable, and the way she should have wanted things.

In fact, she felt rather comfortable, if she was being honest with herself. And in her opinion, comfortable was a good thing. She was alright with the way she felt, the way she was, the way she looked, and the way things in her life were going. She was accepting and she was tolerant. She supposed that the wise ones had always been right after all: Change favours those who are willing.

And she had been willing enough, she supposed. Was she favoured?

She had no idea, not even one single clue what that even meant to begin with. She really did have this odd habit of going off in her head on long rambles that really didn't make any sense whatsoever. But who the fuck cared? No one else was listening in, at least not that she was aware of. Because such a thing would be mortifying. Honestly, some of the things she thought about! She'd be a disgrace! Clearly, some things were never meant to be shared or broadcasted.

She shuddered at the thought as she opened the door on her way out to see Harry...

... and slammed it right back shut in surprise.

Her heart was pounding all of a sudden, unreasonably but persistent. She couldn't just tell it to calm down since it didn't understand English. (What the fuck? English?).

And then, she cringed. Of course she had to cringe. She'd seen him sitting outside her apartment door and had slammed the door shut right in his face. Though his eyes were closed – or had been closed, were they still closed? – Perhaps he hadn't heard? Maybe she was lucky and he'd been asleep. Still was asleep, in fact. She could just pretend this embarrassing situation just hadn't happened at all. Yes, that was exactly what she'd do.

"It's alright," he called out to her. She cringed again. "I'm sorry I startled you."

And of course he'd be all nice about it!

It wasn't her fault, really. He actually had startled her. She hadn't seen him since the night he'd been so odd at St. Mungos, and he'd only just been named one of the most successful and wealthiest people in all of Britain this morning. What was he doing here? Why? Why?

"I saw you in the Prophet," she told him when he remained silent. What was with him and being silent these days? Sure, he'd write to her, long letters and everything. Why couldn't he say those things in person? "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said. It was brief. It was soft. He seemed off.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked tentatively.

He didn't answer for a few moments and she supposed he was thinking his options through. She didn't see why he'd have to do such a thing, it wasn't as if she was about to banish him from here. But perhaps he was nervous like she was. Maybe his heart was thundering faster than hers and maybe she hadn't imagined him sucking in air like he was short in supply.

"We don't need to," he finally replied. He seemed calm enough so perhaps that was a good sign. She could hear him getting up, dusting his robes off. "I've got somewhere to be soon, anyway. It's always nice seeing you, Hermione."

She wrenched the door open before he could escape this time. He seemed as startled by the action as she felt, and of course it had been startling. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes – he couldn't hide things like that very well, never had in the past, either – and she figured that she probably should apologize for slamming the door in his face. That had been... rude, to say the least.

So Draco Malfoy had feelings to hurt, too. Just like everyone else. But she'd known that. Of course she'd known that, she knew everything important there was to know about him!

Like the fact that his favourite colour was blue. And that he liked spicy food, salty crisps on occasion, and especially chocolate cake. He absolutely refused to eat any variety of bland food stuffs, because what was the point of that anyway? He was quirky and serious. He was enjoyable and gorgeous. He liked cats over dogs because he was lazy, loved and loathed his best mate, hated the colour orange because it was associated with the Weasleys...

He was charming and sweet and tentative and kind. He was nothing like she imagined she'd wanted out of a man when she'd been young and wild.

"Come in," she said to him with a smile. And he smiled back.

She stopped him when he reached the threshold and he seemed shocked that she'd done so, all emotion fading from his face. Before he could even think of taking a step back, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. It was reckless and stupid and bolder than anything she'd done in an exceptionally long time, but it felt good. He felt good. So perhaps doing things his way was worth it.

His smile was back once more when she moved aside, gesturing for him to enter. She didn't follow him through, choosing instead to lean against the door, realizing that the piece of wood would no longer protect her from anything anymore. And in a way that was scary. But she was willing to let it go. Change favoured those that were willing.

Honestly, she hadn't expected any of this to happen. Veela blood, wild sex with her old school nemesis, actually getting to a place that she enjoyed in her life... When she had been young she'd fantasized of high places and romance that was beyond her wildest dreams. This wasn't going to be anything like that, that was for sure.

If this was going anywhere, it wasn't going to be high and mighty. She'd learned not to expect that out of her relationships the hard way. It was going to be rough, because face it, she and Malfoy were crazy people. But that was alright. Because she was smarter now than she'd been when she was a teenager, fantasizing after boys that obviously didn't deserve her.

Malfoy had good manners, he spoke politely, and he was doing great things with his life. What else could she want in a man? She could learn to deal with his quirks. She could probably bloody love him passionately.

Perhaps things would work out between them.

"Granger!" Draco called out to her from somewhere in her apartment. "This place is absolutely shabby! Are those really your drapes? Is that a hairball?"

Or perhaps she'd just kill him.

A/N: So this is obviously an (amusingly) open ending for those of you who prefer them to be separated. It's possible that this relationship went that way. For those of you who prefer her with Ron, the epilogue that J.K wrote (or a variation of it) is still possible. It's all up to your imagination.

I want to say thank you to all for all of your BRILLIANT support and kind words. I would never have finished writing this without you. It was perhaps the most challenging thing I've ever written and it's all thanks to you.

I really hope you will join me in my next endeavour, When the Stranger's Gone (Sequel to When a Stranger Calls). If not, that is alright. I have loved every moment of this (and hated quite a bit of it too, but that's neither here nor there) and it's really been a wild journey. I can't really put much more into words. Do let me know what you think! I love talking to each and every one of you.

Well wishes to all of you,

Murtagh799