It had been three years since the war.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the witches and wizards who had fought against Voldemort had banded together, weary and grief-stricken, to rebuild their shattered lives. The school had been repaired and restored (as far as was possible) and had been re-opened two years ago, headed by Minerva McGonagall, for those 7th year students who wished to return, and for those younger students who had not yet completed their studies. Most of the professors from the previous teaching staff had been willing to come back, and Hogwarts had once again returned to a lively, exciting place of learning.

It was not so everywhere, however. The corruption within the Ministry had taken a while to be rooted out, and there were still some rogue Death Eaters prowling the country, hidden and dangerous; the Aurors continued to search for them, but each day went by with no more news of arrests.

It had been last year, at the annual War Memorial Ball, celebrated every year on the day Voldemort had died, both in memory of those who had died fighting him and to toast the new future that had unfolded since his demise. The Death Eaters had somehow banded together and attacked the partygoers, desperate to destroy the famous Boy Who Lived and avenge their fallen leader. Their attempt had been unsuccessful, but the bold nature of such an aggressive assault had shocked everyone in attendance, and the rumours had begun to surface once again. They are rallying. He is going to return.

The Golden Trio had done what they could to alleviate these rumours - of course he died, I saw him. No, there's no way he could have survived. Yes, the Death Eaters are probably acting alone, and the Aurors will soon round them up. Don't worry. It's all over now.

Ten months following the attack, though, and with at least twenty Death Eaters still at large, the Ministry was in crisis. Should they host the Annual Ball again this year, even though they may be putting the invitees at risk? If they did not, would the public backlash and rumour-mongering from the media be enough to ruin the relative peace and prosperity they had been trying to hard to manufacture?

This was the crisis with which Hermione Granger was faced right now.

Following the war, she, Ron and Harry had returned to Hogwarts to finish their final year with Ginny after the rebuilding effort. After their NEWTs, Ron and Harry had been taken on by the Auror office, and Ginny had become a reserve for the Holyhead Harpies after being Gryffindor Team Captain in her final year. Hermione had opted to take a position within the Ministry, hoping to help remove the corrupt members of the system and return the organisation to a pre-Voldemort state of affairs.

All in all, things had been going quite well for her. She had had a fairly successful career so far, and despite only having two years' experience, her intelligence and capacity for learning and remembering, coupled with her intense work ethic, had promoted her quickly through the ranks to Chief Officer of Internal Affairs. This meant she was responsible for organising the committees which ran each department, answering only to the Board of Directors and Minister for Magic himself; she also supervised other Heads of Department and ensured the smooth running of events such as the Quidditch World Cup, Triwizard Tournament and the Annual War Memorial Ball.

Hence the problem she was currently dealing with.

She sat at her desk, hands running through her crazed brown curls, staring wildly at the ink bottle on the edge of the table and wondering how, how, she could possibly make this decision. She had two weeks before she would be called before the Minister to announce whether the Ball would be going ahead, and it was her decision, there could be no delegation or escalation. This was her job, and she had to do it.

Sighing, she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and began to set out the 100th list of possibilities she had made that week:

If the Ball goes ahead:

- There will be a magnificent event

- The tradition of honouring the war casualties will be upheld

- The media coverage will reflect well on the Ministry

- There is a possibility of risking lives in a devastating Death Eater attack.

If the Ball does not go ahead:

- The media will start up the rumours of Voldemort again and accuse the Ministry of incompetence

- Society will become more apathetic towards the Ministry and risk degeneration

- The Death Eaters will hear, and know they have us scared.

On paper, it seemed obvious. Let the Ball go ahead. Install extra security measures - Portkeys, wards, Aurors on every corner - and hope that the rogues would not decide to attack. Or even better, hope that Harry and his team manage to round them up in the two months before the Ball goes ahead.

But could she justify risking the lives of over 500 people, just for the benefit of the Ministry's public image?

Sighing for what must have been the two hundredth time that day, she screwed up the parchment and threw it in the bin. Chances were she'd be writing another one tomorrow anyway, determined to analyze something, anything that she had missed, a way for this situation to resolve itself without herself and everyone else at the Ministry being thrown under the bus.

Glancing up at the clock, she realised it was 6pm already. She and Ron were supposed to be meeting Harry and Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron for drinks tonight; Ginny had returned from a Harpies tour of Romania recently and they hadn't had a chance to catch up. She gathered her possessions, stuffed them in her magically-enhanced bag and swept the desk for a last-minute check, before standing up and leaving the office for another day.

She Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and headed inside. Since the restoration of Diagon Alley three years ago, the Cauldron had been bought out by Hannah Abbott and her family, and expanded into a family venue which had become a bustling restaurant and bar. She noticed Harry, Ron and Ginny sitting at a table on the other side of the room, and waved at them as she pushed her way over.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted her as she arrived.

"Hey guys! Hello Ginny, gosh, I haven't seen you in weeks!" Hermione replied, hugging the red-haired girl before sitting down next to Ron, who kissed her on the cheek and put his arm around her chair.

"I know, it's been mental," Ginny said, sounding exhausted. "We barely stopped training to sleep, and when we did, it was never in the same place two nights running. I'll be glad to get home and have a nice long lie in tomorrow."

Hermione laughed, the presence of her boyfriend and friends never failing to cheer her up. She would worry about her work problems tomorrow - for now, she wanted to enjoy the evening and relax.

None of them noticed a platinum-blond wizard skulking at the bar, watching them with a measured gaze.

Later that night, Harry and Ginny said goodbye and Apparated home; Ginny was eager to get to bed, and after three weeks without his girlfriend, Harry could probably say the same thing. Hermione and Ron were left at the table.

"So how was it today?" Ron asked, sipping his Butterbeer.

"Exhausting," she replied, "I can't figure out this Memorial Ball issue yet. It's driving me nuts. I don't suppose there's been any updates from the field?"

"None today," Ron said with a grimace. "They could be anywhere, as far as we know. Look, this job is obviously stressing you out too much. Why not quit?"

Hermione groaned. She had hoped not to have an argument tonight, but apparently, it was not to be.

"I like my job, Ron. I don't want to quit - this is just a problem I need to resolve like everything else."

Ron, though, would not let it go. "You'd be happier if you left. You'd be able to spend more time at home, instead of being stuck in an office all day."

Hermione knew she shouldn't have, but she took the bait. It had been a long day, she was tired and she wasn't in the mood for one of Ron's preachy speeches about marriage and children.

"Some women, Ronald, don't want to stay at home all day, cleaning and cooking and making children. I want to have a career of my own, and all that will just have to wait."

Ron's ears were turning red. "For how long? Mum had Bill when she was your age. You can't put it off forever, it's the way things are."

"Well, it's not the way things will be for me, Ronald, and if you can't accept that then don't be a part of it. I will have a family when I'm good and ready, and not a minute before, and no amount of nagging from you is going to change that." She downed the rest of her Firewhiskey and stood up.

"Are you leaving?" he blustered.

"We're done here, aren't we?" she replied sweetly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

She turned abruptly and left him sitting at the table, nonplussed with Butterbeer still in hand. She hated fighting with him, but more and more recently he had been trying to coerce her into settling down, marrying him and popping out twelve red-headed children. She didn't want that, though, not yet - she had never wanted that, and if he couldn't understand it then she wasn't going to keep explaining it. He could either let her live her life, and wait until she was ready, or he could find someone else who was willing to give him what he wanted. At this point, she really was too tired of him to care.

Once she Apparated home to her flat, she put her things down on the kitchen counter and flicked the lights on. Crookshanks was curled on the couch, oblivious to the world, snoring as only a part-Kneazle could. She smiled and stroked his furry back, and he wiggled in his sleep, his tail and whiskers twitching like crazy.

Hermione changed into her tracksuit trousers and an old jumper, and started to make herself a cup of tea. She needed it after the day she'd had. Determined not to let the Ball issue enter her mind again, she sat down on the sofa next to Crookshanks, cradling her mug, and opened the book she was currently reading, resolved to get some peace and quiet.

Sadly, it was not to be. Within minutes of sitting down, her doorbell rang. She sighed, figuring it was Ron come to apologize, and ignored it. She really couldn't be bothered with any more of him tonight. The caller was insistent, though, and rang again, followed by a knock two minutes later. With an aggravated groan she got up, putting her book and mug on the table, and headed to the door to tell Ron where to go.

"Ronald, will you cut it out-" she began as she swung the door open, but stopped in her tracks when she saw not her red-headed boyfriend at the door, but a tall, blonde wizard, hair combed neatly back, black robes billowing to the floor and grey eyes watching her with a piercing gaze.

"Draco! What are you doing here?" she asked, flabbergasted. She hadn't seen him since they finished Hogwarts two years ago.

When the war trials had occurred, Harry and Hermione had spoken out for the Malfoy family as witnesses. Harry described how Narcissa had saved his life in the Forest, and how Draco had refused to kill Dumbledore and lowered his wand; how Lucius had been the stem of the Voldemort support within the Malfoy family, and Draco and Narcissa only unwilling participants. Hermione then testified about the day at the Manor, how he refused to identify them, and with shaking breaths, described her experience with Bellatrix, and how Draco had been shocked and horrified at the deeds of his aunt, and was certainly not capable of the evil actions of his father.

Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, but had escaped after being sentenced and had not been found - he was presumed to be one of the rogue Death Eaters roaming the country. Narcissa and Draco had been placed on house arrest for a year as a precaution, after which Draco was to return to Hogwarts and finish his education with a mandatory Muggle Studies NEWT.

Surprisingly, they had accepted their punishment with grace, and Draco had become altogether different since the trial. He had approached Harry on the first day back at school, thanked both he and Hermione for testifying for him, apologised for his behaviour towards them, and held his hand out for a truce. This time, Harry had taken it, determined to put old grudges behind hgim - after the horrors they had witnessed, it wasn't worth keeping old rivalries alive. There were bigger things in the world.

Although Malfoy had not been directly friendly to them after that, they had been civil in classes, and whenever they passed him in the corridors they would nod hello. Ron, being slightly less mature than the other two and still aggravated by Malfoy's previous remarks about his family, refused to acknowledge him in any way, which hindered the progress they were trying to make to keep unity alive. However, they managed well enough, and Hermione actually found him to be quite a pleasant person underneath.

Later on in the year, he had come to her in secret and begged her to help him with his Muggle Studies. Having only taken it for a year rather than the usual two, he was behind with his work and struggling to keep up; he felt that he might fail his exam, and as he proudly exclaimed to Hermione, "A Malfoy never fails an exam." Being that she was the only student in the school smarter than him, and a Muggle-born to boot, he had swallowed his pride and asked her for help.

She acquiesced and they arranged weekly meetings so she could review his work and go over the bits he didn't understand. Slowly but surely, a budding friendship formed between them as they found they had quite a lot in common; they both loved books and plays, and could sit for hours discussing various Muggle and wizarding literature. Draco was fascinated with the Muggle classics, which he had never read before his NEWT, and she was keen to introduce him to other texts she thought he might enjoy.

Neither of them mentioned these meetings in public, however, and Hermione was careful to keep it from Harry and Ron. Though Harry was tolerating Draco now, he may accidentally let it slip to Ron, and Ron would hit the roof that his girlfriend was "fraternizing with the enemy". So, they had continued to meet, and continued to connect, and continued to act as if nothing was happening to everyone else they knew.

After his NEWT (which he passed with flying colours), Malfoy had thanked her and told her he would never, ever disparage Muggles or Muggle-borns again. He had learned that everyone's blood was the same, and if she had weak magic then so did he. She smiled and surprised herself by hugging him, telling him that she accepted his apology, and to keep in touch after Hogwarts.

He hadn't.

And yet here he was, outside her door at 9pm on a Thursday, gazing at her with his grey eyes as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Sorry for calling on you so late," he began. Malfoys always remembered their manners. "I had something I wanted to talk about with you."

"No problem at all," she said, and found she actually meant it. As long as it wasn't Ron, she didn't mind having someone at her door. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Two sugars, thanks," he replied, looking around her flat. "This is a nice place, Hermione."

"Thanks," she responded whilst busying herself over his cup. "I got it a couple of years ago when I got my job at the Ministry. I needed a place in London, and I think this suits me."

"It certainly does," he agreed, and sat down beside Crookshanks on the couch where Hermione had been only moments before. "I see you still have your beast of a cat," he joked warmly, stroking Crookshanks's back. He had taken an instant liking to Crookshanks after he had first met him, and the cat had bonded with Draco straightaway. He opened one eye upon feeling a hand on his back, meowed sleepily and moved up closer to Draco, pushing his back against his leg.

"He's been missing you," Hermione responded with a smile, bringing his tea over and sitting down in the armchair at the end of the couch.

Draco only chuckled and sipped his tea, sitting back thoughtfully.

"So what's this about, Draco? What have you been doing the last two years?" Hermione asked.

"Not sure where to start, really," he said, looking down at Crookshanks with a small frown on his face. "After Hogwarts, I didn't know what to do with myself. I have the Malfoy fortune, of course, but since Father is missing, the business has somewhat collapsed, and I can't reinstate anything without Father, as he is still the sole owner of the company. There's no more money coming in, and I'm not sure what to do about it, at least until Father is caught and I can be named co-owner.

So I thought I would get a job, to support Mother. We have enough money for several lifetimes, of course, but she needs structure and routine, and having a man go out to work every day is a part of that. Initially I struggled, though, because of reputation and the war records."

Hermione nodded sadly. Draco really had had a tough break.

"Eventually, though, I managed to find an apprenticeship at a local Potions store, and I've been at that for a year now. I'm about to finish my apprenticeship and hopefully I'll be able to take over manufacturing and start making my own potions."

"You were always brilliant at Potions," Hermione mused. "Even after Snape stopped giving you free marks."

"They were not free marks," he said indignantly, though he was grinning. "They were a present from my godfather."

Hermione laughed and took another sip from her cup. "So you're a Potions apprentice, living at Malfoy Manor, earning a bit of money, you've still got the fortune and your mother is doing well. Sounds like it worked out okay for you in the end."

"Thanks to you and Potter," he said without missing a beat. "Without you two I would be nowhere. Especially you - I owe you a debt."

"Oh, please, Draco, it's nothing. I'm just glad you've managed to make something out of the chance you got given. It's good to see that people can put things behind them and move on," Hermione smiled.

"No, I owe you, and I've come here tonight to help you, the same way you helped me before," Draco said, a note of urgency in his voice. "I came to you for help when I needed it, and now, I can assist you too."

"How?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.

"I was in the Leaky Cauldron earlier," he confessed. "I saw you talking to Weasley about the problems you're having at work - about the Ball, and the possibility of another attack?"

"Yes..." Hermione said slowly.

"Two days ago, I got a letter from my father, asking me to help him coordinate an attack with the rest of the Death Eaters, for the glory of the Malfoy family and all that rubbish he used to spout. I kept the owl. You can trace it back to where they're hiding. You can catch them all," he said, looking her directly in the eye. "I came to you, because I know nobody else would trust that I hadn't been corresponding with him all this time. You know me - and you know I haven't."

She nodded without question. Of all the people who would willingly contact Lucius Malfoy, Arthur Weasley was higher on the list than Draco. "And you really think the owl will lead us to them?"

"It's waiting for a reply," Draco answered. "Father wants to know if I will help them - information on the whereabouts of the Ball and the security they will be installing. He will need that information and so wherever that owl goes, they will be."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, and threw her arms around him. "Thank you!"

"It's no problem," he responded somewhat awkwardly, patting her back. "Like I said, I owe you for helping me with my Muggle Studies NEWT."

"Just for once," she said, drawing back, "how about we don't make this tit for tat? You never owed me anything. You haven't repaid anything. I helped you because I wanted to, and now you're helping me because you're my friend, and you want to do what's right. Shall we leave it at that?"

Draco smiled back into her grinning face - not a smirk, but a real, genuine smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that."