Saturday, June 28th, 2003.

Hermione stumbled to the door, growling incoherent insults at the person who had dared knock at - or more molest - her front door that morning. Even her hair hurt. She'd woken up to the banging sound of someone's fist punching the bloody door, still sitting in her kitchen, her face sticking to the liquor-coated table.

Whoever it was, was not welcome.

She snapped the door open abruptly, only maintaining herself standing by grasping furiously the doorpost:

"WHAT?" She barked at the intruder, the force it required to so do making her sway dangerously.
Muggle tequila had just become forbidden.

"Damn you're in a state!" Was the answer Astoria gave her, her whole face wrinkling in distaste. She looked like she'd smelt a bottle of rotten milk.

Hermione tried to bang to door close to her face but the witch was quicker, or just sober. Judging by the dryness in Hermione's mouth, it was certainly the latter.

"I don't think so." She drawled, her left hand firmly holding the door open. "Draco didn't sleep all night and I wont bear with Blaise's whining if I tell him I didn't try."

Hermione heard all the words, but was unable to attach them all together.

"What?"

Astoria sighed and took advantage of Hermione's sudden confusion to push her way in.

"I have hungover remedy and you're going to take a bath, you reek." She ordered, grabbing the drunken pile of rubbish she was visiting and pulling her towards the bathroom door as if she knew the place.

She drew her a bath with a sweep of her wand and left Hermione to undress with a warning glare. Hermione was too hungover to argue and after struggling for five minutes to unbutton her robes from the previous day, she caught sight of the tiny purple vial Stori had left on the sink.

The headache, dryness in her mouth, incoming and rather threatening nausea, and the hair pain, didn't leave place for stubbornness and Hermione shot it all at once. Bottoms up.
She was in the warm water before it started taking effect.

After a moment, Astoria opened the door quietly, levitating two cups of tea in front of her. Hermione didn't even find it in her to protest. There were bubbles. She'd already seen her in her panties anyway.

Astoria transfigured a towel into a small stool, and sat, playing with the bubbles with a finger. She didn't ask. She'd promised she wouldn't.

Hermione started talking anyway.

Draco was blankly and tiredly watching his cup of coffee cooling down when Blaise decided to mention the hippogryph in the room that morning.

The atmosphere had been tense and quiet since Blaise had found a sleepless Draco pacing around the kitchen after Astoria had left.

"Stori's there you know." He said, lifting his gaze from his own coffee.

"I know." Was all Draco found to say. The fact that Blaise looked worried enough not to joke or be annoying was disturbing. They'd been waiting for hours to hear from Astoria, and atop the Hermione ordeal going on in his head, Draco found the prospect of having his punching Weasley in the news nerve-wrecking.
There was nothing he could do himself though, except waiting for Astoria to return. As horrid as it was.

"I called her a cripple, didn't I?" Blaise blurted suddenly, making Draco's cup shake in his hand.

Well, he had.

"Yes."

"I didn't know." Blaise grimaced.

"Right."

"It's kind of weird anyway." Blaise frowned after a moment. "I guess it's an oddity from being muggle-born because …"

"She's been cursed in the stomach, you moron." Draco cut, not feeling like discussing this at all. Unwillingly replaying the scene in his head had been enough.

"I know, but ..."

"My aunt crucio'd her …" He roared.

"Yes." Blaise cut, lifting a hand. "But magical beings have a …"

Both men startled out of their incoming argument when something silvery and fast swept the kitchen air around them. When it settled, Draco recognised a Patronus charm. This one was … magnificent. A black swan, in all its grace.

Very different from the dull otter they'd seen the night before.

It stopped a moment, as if to be admired and then spoke Astoria's voice:

"She's fine, hungover but fine. I'll stay with her today though. I met Potter at the Prophet and the article is cancelled. I'll tell you everything later. See you tomorrow. Love you."

Draco's relief was quite something, until he realised Hermione had indeed drunk herself to death the previous night. Then, he looked at Blaise and the feelings were pushed aside altogether.

The lad was staring in awe at the patronus, his mouth agape, his eyes shining. It only lasted a blessed second of silence before he exclaimed:

"Salazar … I give up. Would you be my best man?"

Draco had just the time to feel irritated, that the feeling was, again, crushed with something else. Dread.

An owl he recognised started tapping the window.

"Draco?"

"That's my mother's owl."

"Shit." Blaise winced and opened the window for him, forgetting about his proposal epiphany.

"I couldn't speak, not with Ginny when she's been pregnant instantly and ... I hoped Harry would but he just sent her and ..."

Astoria hummed sympathetically, she seemed to be thinking.

"What about your parents?" She asked after a moment.

"They don't know." Hermione answered. "They stayed in Australia when their memories were restored. I think they want nothing to do with magic ever again. If I tell them they'll never have grandchildren because of magical torture …"

"Err, Right." There was a pause, and then Astoria frowned: "So, you never spoke about it?" Hermione suspected she knew that answer already. Was there anything that witch didn't anyway?

"Only once, with Mrs Zabini." She confessed and Astoria nodded.

"Blaise was right then." She said. Hermione could ad perceptive to the impressively long list of Blaise's traits of character. "Were you close?"

"No, not really, she guessed it actually."

"Blaise told me last night that she's had miscarriages of her own." Astoria nodded, lowering her eyes to her untouched cup of tea.

"Yes. We only talked about it once anyway … " Hermione explained. "You know, beside her, the only one who knew is Draco. He overheard me with Harry …" Astoria nodded again, she'd known that too of course. "He said he was sorry but I ..." Hermione swallowed hard, remembering Draco's face pale in her office. "It's too raw."

"He never told us."

"I know."

"He punched Weasley." Astoria reminded.

Hermione huffed, more out of being disconcerted than anything else. She hadn't quite processed that yet.

"He did." She eventually sighed.

"He's been worried." Astoria frowned, fiddling with the handle of her teacup. "Didn't sleep all night actually."

"Wh …" Hermione started and suddenly it clicked. "Bellatrix ..."

"It's not his fault." Stori cut rather sternly, her eyes challenging, as if daring Hermione to say anything else. Like she would have!

"No," Hermione pushed, seeing the small amusement in Astoria's eyes. "It's not," She continued, ignoring the coming smirk on the witch's face. "And there's nothing he could have done. No one could have predicted that bitch would be so twisted as to ..."

"You think she did it on purpose?" Astoria cut, horror slowly striking her face, gone was the smirk.

"Three times she crucio'd me in the stomach ..." Hermione snorted. "She was mad but not stupid."

"And you are muggle-born." Astoria breathed, lowering her eyes to her cold tea again.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, that twisted bitch … Astoria snapped her head up again, frowning:

"And yet you fought so that the families would ..."

"Yes. Because it was the right thing to do." The vehement tint in her voice reminded Hermione that yes, her fire was still there. "I've never blamed Draco for any of this." She added. "I'm certain he knows it. Ron and Harry they ... They weren't there. They blame him but he was terrorised. I was as well. Gryffindor or not I was scared to death. I would have told her anything she wanted. I didn't lie to her."

"And it still haunts you?"

"No, not as much. Rarely." She shrugged, as though it would undermine the creeping feelings she had sometimes, less and less often though. It was irrevocable after all. There was nothing to be done about it. Whether Ron believed it or not. "I've come to terms with it Stori. I've grieved and I've been trying to move on. What I had trouble getting over was how it turned out with Harry and Ron … I never thought I'd lose them."

"Well their loss." Astoria shrugged, although the look in her eyes showed slight anger. "And I don't want to rub salt in the wound or anything but … It's not like they tried to make things better. I mean, coming to insult you was obviously not a peace offering. Maybe Potter tried." She added as Hermione opened her mouth. "And he could have done better - but Weasley was definitely not there to play nice yesterday. Drunk or not."

Hermione watched the bubbles as she answered, her voice small.

"Err … I …" Hermione rubbed her face in her hands and confessed through her fingers: "I feel like a lot of this is my fault you know."

"Oh my … you can't be serious?" Disbelief wasn't so pretty on Astoria's face.

"I tried to spare him." Hermione hurried to explain. "It killed me inside and I never showed it to him. It's no wonder he thinks I've got no heart."

"What the … You're insufferable." Astoria pestered.

"What?"

"You care so fucking much that you …" She paused, looking about as frustrated as a Nott had looked when Hermione had stolen his wand. "It's … He is a moron. Broken or not. NO. Listen." She hissed and Hermione closed her protesting mouth. The fact that Astoria was probably the only person in the world able to do that didn't even surprise her. "He's known you for ever," Astoria continued. "And even I, who had never talked to you before working at the Ministry, knew you were the kind to climb mountains for the helpless. Hermione, he's broken, AND a selfish moron. You can't take his words seriously. Everybody, and I mean everybody, knows you care. About everything. You were the one working for the death-eater's families' rehabilitation. Despite being a muggle-born! If that's not having a heart then what is? He's sick. He hasn't grieved and is blaming you instead. You can't blame yourself for that."

Hermione didn't answer, she made sense, her feelings of guilt did as well though.

"Come on now, you told Potter, it's all you could do."

"Right." It was all she was willing to do anyway.

"You're not going to lock yourself in your office again, are you?" Astoria asked, her eyebrows practically joining in the middle.

"How …"

"Because I rather like your company and I'd be damned before I spent my days with Tracey tight-arse." The smirk had the benefit to make Hermione outline a smile.

"Right."

"Good. You don't need to any more anyway. You've got us, now." Stori said, and cocked her head to a side. "I think we can agree that it's a vast improvement."

Hermione looked at Stori's small but warm smile then.

She shook her head but couldn't help but smile back.

"Thank you."

Astoria winked, and frowned at the cooling water she'd been poking her fingers in. She grabbed her wand and warmed it up with a charm.

Hermione seemed to only really register then that she was having tea, naked in her bathtub, with Astoria Greengrass sitting on a stool next to her.

That witch had some guts.

Hermione couldn't remember anyone ever forcing their way in with her this way before. No one had ever dared kick her barriers away to check on her.

Not ever.

No one had ever managed to shut her up like that either.

An hour with the witch and the incoherent memory-laced depressive slope she'd stumbled in the previous night was gone. She even felt kind of stupid now.

Astoria sat back on her transfigured stool as if nothing, and Hermione realised how much that friendship was precious.

Draco didn't sleep all night and I won't bear with Blaise's whining if I tell him I didn't try.

Well, those friendships. Both men had thrown themselves at Ron after all, Draco being the only one to succeed was only a detail. She'd herself given death threats away on Draco's behalf. They weren't going to quibble over tiny details.

The intensity and speed with which they'd become friends was something Hermione had more trouble to grasp.

Blaise had barged his way in her life without so much as asking her opinion and Astoria was currently invading her privacy.

Draco … Well, that was a different matter. He'd insinuated his way in, probably as oblivious to it as she'd been. It had just happened.

They were a real and constant part of her life now. No doubt.

Especially not after that punch.

Now that it came back in mind, Hermione couldn't help but think it'd been quite the thing. Draco Malfoy, all lean and tall lines, punching Ronald thickset and not as tall Weasley in the face. Drunk or not Hermione doubted Ron would have remained standing up. He probably wouldn't have been knocked out if he'd been in full possession of his mental capacities, but he'd certainly have ended up sitting back on his arse.

The thought made her smile.

Draco had looked so … She didn't know exactly what word was appropriate for that.

Angry or enraged, that was certain, but also … virile?

Merlin. What was wrong with her?
She was naked in her bathtub AND in the presence of Astoria!

"Okay, out of the bath now. I've got things to tell you and I'd rather you not be naked."

Hermione could only glare at being given orders. Even if said orders had the benefits to snap her out of her thoughts. It was time to dry herself anyway, her finger tips were all wrinkly, and she'd definitely puked out enough of her feelings for a lifetime.
It was time to move.

She turned around to grab herself a towel – no need for Astoria to see more than she already had – but before she could go out of the bathtub, a weight literally lifted off her shoulders and the snicker at her back told her it had nothing to do with emotional liberation.
"I've always wanted to do that."

Astoria's smirk was rewarded with Hermione splashing water all over the witch's lap.

Son,

I have taken the liberty to search your father's office yesterday. The hidden bookcase behind the liquor cabinet was full of old records. I destroyed all of them and demand you do the same with the one currently in your company office.

Although I can't state that I forgive you, I found evidences that the report you handed me Monday was truthful. I had no knowledge of such practises, your father never discussed his work with me.
Whatever his flaws though, he was your father, and he loved you, in his own way. I do not want his name sullied after death.

I do not want our name sullied either, neither with the possibility of those reports being seen, nor with associations your father would have condemned you for.

My offer for the company stands as ten thousand Galleons and will be final.

Mother.

Draco put the letter down feeling empty. He didn't even react when Blaise took it from him to read it too.

After a minute of quiet but nasty grumble under his breath, he frowned, showing the last few sentences:

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I told her Hermione helped me." Draco answered.

"Err … Are you …" He grimaced.

"I don't care what she wants or not." Draco snapped.

"Fair enough." Blaise nodded and paused. Then, he asked warily: "Are you going to sell her the company?"

"Yes."

Blaise nodded again, and didn't argue. Whatever her beliefs, she was his mother. Whatever grudge she held against him, recognising she didn't know - even though she couldn't possibly have been completely clueless - was her way to apologise. Draco knew it, he also knew she'd never say it explicitly.
She'd surrendered to making an offer too, which meant that somehow, she understood why he'd done what he had.
What she couldn't forgive was what he'd told his father on his death bed.

She expected apologies, and some sort of poised begging for forgiveness.

What she couldn't accept, was Hermione's involvement.

She expected her out of her son's life after that letter.

Well, his mother had a wide range of expectations that Draco had more or less always failed to meet.

He'd long ago stopped trying.

He'd done what he'd done, nothing could change it, and he wasn't going to apologise for it, neither beg. Draco never begged.

He certainly wasn't about to chase away the woman that had actually saved his arse from this monstrous oath destiny either, just because his mother lived in another time.

He'd made enough mistakes for a few lifetimes and he wasn't about to make this one.

She, on the other hand, could very much decide that he wasn't worth her time after all.

Draco had had more time to think than he'd ever wished for in his insomnia, and on intense and nerve-wrecking reflection, what was really bothering him was not only Weasley - but then, when had Weasley not bothered him? - neither Hermione's issue. He'd known about that.

He could have guessed Bellatrix' responsibility.

It wasn't his fault and he knew that Hermione didn't hold him responsible.

The nagging guilt was there either way, of course, kid or not he'd stood by and done strictly nothing - but something else was also bothering him.

She hadn't said a word to them.
Him. Who was he kidding? He was bothered because she hadn't said a word to him, and had gone like a thief right after making sure someone would check on Weasley.

He could understand her wish to be alone, even though in difficulty he'd always sought Blaise's company and the times he'd been mad at him had been atrociously lonely.

He could understand.

It still hurt.

It had taken a great deal of insomnia and internal incoherent debate to confess so to himself.

It hurt.

He'd - although a tad violently - defended her. Again.

And she'd gone after checking on Weasley.
Not on him.

She'd been more worried about Weasley's sanity than by Draco's swollen hand.
That much was certain.

Weasley was a right bastard.

Broken or not.

He'd made her cry at school! He'd made her miserable since childhood and yet she just …

What a hypocrite he was.

He may never have made her cry as she'd said, but he'd bullied her, insulted her, watched her be tortured without lifting a finger.

She'd forgiven him despite all this.

She'd forgive Weasley as well.

And then what?

Would she go back to her trio?

No, that wasn't quite the question, was it?

The question was more, would she forget all about them?

Still not quite there.

Salazar … why was it this hard? Nobody heard his thoughts. He'd seen what denial did to people enough the previous night and he'd rather not go nutters over this.

He could be truthful with himself.

The question was: would she just forget all about him?

The answer: perhaps.

And it was what was truly nagging him since the night before.

After all they'd been enemies for a decade and friends for what? A couple of months?

Weasley, however despicably atrocious with her lately, had been her friend for a decade and then her lover, husband.

He won in the balance.

It strangely felt like some sort of sword, hanging above his head, held by a very thin rope. Was it Damocles? The muggle saying?

"Think she'll ever come around?" Blaise asked, cutting his thoughts which Draco found himself voicing without thinking:

"I don't know, the bastard insulted her all night and she still called Potter to take care of him. Maybe she's just going to ..."

Draco stopped himself. Blaise was looking at him with confusion, one of his eyebrows cocked up.

"What?"

"I was talking about your mother, mate."

"Oh." Shit.

Hermione made a show of smirking her face off as she walked out of the bathroom, and Astoria was still irritably waving her wand around her thighs.

Bubble soap and Witchety skirts didn't add nicely it seemed.

The smirk quickly receded when she made her way to the kitchen.

Astoria had cleaned the mess up.

Her beaded bag, and its content, was neatly stacked in a corner of the counter. Draco's note was slightly away from it.

Hermione hovered a little at the counter. Astoria stared at her with her most infuriating smirk.

"Would you stop that?" Hermione snapped, she did, but didn't look guilty.

"Okay." She shrugged. "I was just wondering why this wasn't with the rest on the floor."

"Err." Hermione didn't know how to, and didn't want to explain anyway.

"He's been worried." Astoria pointed out, again.

"So you say."

"Didn't sleep all night. I found him pacing around the kitchen, mumbling like a nutjob."

"Maybe he is a nutjob." Hermione shrugged.

"He was worried." Came the stern response.

Hermione didn't answer, she also didn't touch at the things on her counter.

She didn't want to think about all of it again.

She'd had enough with the previous night.

"Let's go out." Astoria offered.

"Yes, I need air."

"Hog's Head?" Well, it wasn't like they had anywhere else where they'd be left in peace. "If Aberforth isn't too pissed." Astoria added as an after thought. Right.

"He might never want any of us in there again." Hermione grimaced.

"Well, he would be in his right. You make scenes and puke everywhere …"

"Funny." Hermione scowled, but she couldn't help the small grateful smile that tugged at her lips. Astoria winked.

The confusion quickly morphed into a smirk Blaise had trouble to maintain. It kept slipping into a grin.

Draco had the coldest letter a mother could send her son in his hands, and yet, all he was thinking about was Hermione.

They were finally getting somewhere.

"Maybe she's just going to what now?"

Draco blanched, anger or mortification, Blaise didn't know, the lad was already standing up and going away.

"Shit." Blaise heard him mutter and he couldn't help but chuckle as he stood as well to follow him.

He managed to catch the lad before he locked himself in his room.

"What are you running away from?" He asked, managing to put his hand before the door closed and take a step in.

"Your incessant questioning." Draco growled. His face was quite … funny.

"Well, you started talking." Blaise shrugged.

"I didn't mean to." Well, obviously. "Now, fuck off." Draco added, showing the door with a white knuckled finger.

"It's my flat." Blaise smirked, pulling at the chair in front of the desk to sit. "What's wrong with you? I haven't seen you so worked up since last time Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup."

"They cheated." Draco barked, letting his arse fall at the foot of his bed.

"Right. And I didn't take that picture of Weasley puking everywhere."

"That wanker …" Good, they were returning to the subject then. "I should have broken his skull." Draco said, flexing his hand as if replaying the scene in his head.

Well, one thing they both wished they'd done the previous night.

"I think we've been over that." Blaise sighed. "I'm pretty certain a lot of people share our opinion on the matter but let's agree that it's not such a good idea. What with his being famous and all, there'd be an investigation."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"So?" Blaise insisted but got nothing from Draco still.

"The stubbornness is seriously getting old." He tried. "It was fun for the first decade or so but now I'm starting to lose patience."

"If you're not happy with my being silent you can always fuck off the room. Your flat or not." Came the answer.

"I'm just trying to help." For once, it was true.

"You're not helping." Oh but he was.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked again.

"Ronald fucking Weasley's what's wrong!" Draco barked, which wasn't news.

"What's it to do with what Hermione's going to do?" Blaise asked, cocking his head to a side and starting to see where the lad's full mind had been wandering all night.

"She just …" The pale idiot started, looking at his hands. "She checked on him." He finished in a barely audible confession. He looked quite like a guilty child.

"Yes, and?" Blaise asked, quietly, he didn't want to frighten the for once talking specimen. "What d'you think she'll do now?"

"I … err … Fuck." Draco cut himself, looking up, startled. Blaise knew he'd been about to answer. Of course it couldn't be that simple. A Malfoy, talking about his moods. Ludicrous.

"Stop questioning me."

"Alright." Blaise lifted his hands in surrender. Fake surrender.

"I need a bloody drink." Draco groaned under his hands. Well, that could help, Blaise thought.

"Come on then." He stood and turned to the door. He would indeed require liquor if he wanted Draco to actually recognise that he was jealous.

Yes, jealous of the weasel.

As utterly moronic as it was.

That was going to take loads of liquor.

Blaise hoped Aberforth wouldn't kick them out.

Draco only nodded, and they grabbed their wands before disapparating.

They walked all the way to the far end of Hogsmeade, under the blinding heat. Or more stomped angrily for Draco. Blaise was a tad too tired to run though:

"Would you calm down?"

Draco came to an abrupt stop.

"I'm calm."

"Right, and I'm a princess."

Draco rolled his eyes and carefully caught Blaise's pace. Too carefully for it to be natural.

"You can't seriously be so worked up about all this."

"I'm not." Draco lied.

"Look, try your best, I don't need to look at you to know you're lying."

"Sod off."

At that, Blaise decided he could start his little game before they got a drink after all. "Why do you care so much what she'll do?" He asked. "What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't."

Blaise chose to ignore that big fat lie altogether.

"Why?" He asked again. "Are you jealous?" He couldn't help but sneer.

"Fuck you." Draco's outrage didn't look so convincing to Blaise. The lad had actually stopped walking.

Blaise had made a point and he knew it. Draco was considering the jealousy idea.

They'd reached the pub's door though, and Blaise pushed the stubborn in. Firewhiskey would help.

Too bad the girls were both in there when they got in.

Draco froze. Damn. Her hair, something was off. Astoria had definitely something to do with it. Whenever Hermione had her hair up, it was usually in a huge messy attempt at a bun that failed. Or that ugly braided thing she'd pulled at commemoration to remain unseen. There it was … Combed, sleek. Neat curls framed her face, the rest of her massive strands were tucked in a high curly ponytail. He preferred the usual mess.

Her head snapped up to them and her eyes were red, tired, swollen. She'd cried. A lot. For that bloody wanker.

Astoria turned around and Draco saw the pretty witch grimace. She turned back to Hermione. Draco didn't move.

"We should go." He said to Blaise.

"The polite thing to do is to at least say hullo mate."

"Then we go." Blaise didn't answer and stepped before Draco. He kissed his girlfriend, chastely on the cheek, and to Draco's greatest surprise, bent over the table to peck Hermione's temple, just as Draco finally reached the table too. He didn't say a thing and turned around to go, leaving Draco utterly uncomfortable and Hermione completely baffled.

"You're not giving us a little kiss too Draco? I'm disappointed." Astoria was as irritating as Blaise. But Draco didn't get a chance to snap at her, Hermione chuckled. Her eyes lit a bit. She was watching him, her half-smile contrasting with the remnant red on her cheeks. Either he stayed like that and looked like a fool, either he played her little game.

"Well, I'd expect you to take my hand Milady." He said to Astoria, offering her his palm. She pompously put her hand in his and he pecked the tip of her fingers. Then, he turned to the other witch. He had a second of hesitation but she seemed to be holding back a smile, so he lifted his hand to her too. She put her tiny hand in his palm, and a mocking chuckle escaped her lips. He bent over, and chastely brushed his mouth to the back of her hand, her fingers between his, his eyes resolutely cast on what he was doing.

When he lifted his face he was surprised to see concern in her big brown eyes. She squeezed his hand giving it a quick glance.

The question didn't leave her mouth but it was there, and that alone had the strange effect of pushing aside the hurt he'd been mulling over since the last evening.

She'd just been upset but she cared too.

She'd worried about him. As well.
So, he winked before letting go of her hand. Albeit reluctantly, but they had an audience, and said audience was smirking her face off at them right then.

"Miladies." He said then with a bit of a bow. Hermione had a little laugh.

"Posh." She said.

"Gentleman." He countered. He had trouble leaving then, because she smiled. Dimples and everything. Astoria had to clear her throat for him to leave.

"He was staring."

Hermione didn't deny it, it was true. Although she'd been staring too. His eyes. Merlin.

"He likes you."

Hermione startled:

"What?"

"He likes you Mione." Stori said softly.

"No he doesn't."

"He does." She repeated, nodding.

"You're not making any sense."

"I am, don't pretend you don't understand. Draco likes you." She kept assuring. Hermione was starting to believe there'd been some toxic fumes in the bubble soap she'd put in the bath. Or perhaps Aberforth has thought a little revenge was in order?

"He doesn't." She countered, quite stupidly.

"Right and he punched Weasley out of a childhood grudge." She made a point.

No, she didn't! Draco? Liking her?

He finds you pretty. Well, what Blaise said couldn't be trusted, right?

Your hair is pretty. I'm not mocking you.

He'd kissed her. Drunk, right, but he'd kissed her. He'd punched Ron.

He'd defended her to Harry, had her warned about the interview, taken her side again facing Skeeter, he had to at least care.

Yes, right, as friends were supposed to.

This was just their stupid cupido game. Draco didn't like her.

No because I like you.

As friends.

Astoria chuckled, apparently Hermione's inward mumbling was taking time.

"He likes you."

"Are these all the words you know?" Hermione snapped, voicing her thoughts.

"He likes you." Astoria repeated with an ugly smirk that certainly wouldn't deflate any time soon. Hermione sighed. Loudly.

"Did he even tell you?" She asked, knowing fairly well that the answer would be negative, and hoping it would give some sense back to Astoria.

"I don't think he told himself just yet." The concerned pretty witch answered.

"So you are just speculating." Hermione concluded. "As always."

"I am not. He kissed you, didn't he?" That had Hermione pause. That kiss had been a mistake, right. It didn't mean Draco liked her.

"For half a second."

"He likes you."

"He was drunk and …"

"Don't find excuses Hermione, he likes you. Whether he admits it or not. Have you ever seen him this violent?"

Merlin could she stop having good arguments? Draco didn't like her.

"Look," She roared. "Whatever you're on about you need to …"

"You like him too." Astoria cut and Hermione was too tired to try and change the subject. She was too tired even to lie.

"I have no idea how I feel right now." She sighed truthfully.

"Because of Weasley?" Astoria asked warily, cocking her head to a side.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still love him?" She asked, her mouth wrinkled in a corner.

"No." Blurted out of Hermione's mouth before she could even think of it. Apparently she knew the answer to that question.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Stori. I'm sure."

"Good." Astoria sighed with very visible, and exaggerated, relief. Hermione could only roll her eyes but the witch wasn't finished it seemed: "Then it means you're ready to see someone else." She smirked.

"I don't …"

"A tall blond and pretty prat who's been worried sick about you since last night perhaps?"

"Stori …"

"You know, the one who punched the one you don't love any more? To defend you?"

"Would you stop?"

"I'm not quite finished no. Blaise was right, this is quite fun."

"Stop." Hermione hissed, making the cup in front of her tremble.

"Alright." Astoria surrendered. Or so Hermione thought until she opened her mouth again: "Just remember that you didn't push him away when he kissed you."

"Still want that drink?"

"No." Draco snapped.

"Why?"

Draco didn't grace him with an answer, he kept stomping away.

"What the hell?" Blaise called, quite exasperated to have to jog to keep up with the idiot. "You were all smiles ten seconds ago and now you're back to cranky bitch!"

That made Draco stop.

"I wasn't all … Wait, what did you just say?"

"That you were a cranky bitch." Blaise grinned. The response was all but smiles:

"I've got no idea why I'm your friend."

"I'm the only one putting up with you." Blaise shrugged.

"Well," Draco sneered. "Keep being like this and you won't have to for long."

Blaise rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

"I just don't understand the stomping and …"

"Mind your own arse."

"Oh come on!"

Blaise grumbled his annoyance as Draco spun on the spot. He joined him back at his place an instant after, and managed to catch the lad before he locked himself in his room, for the second time in less than an hour.

Running after an angry or something, Draco, hadn't been on Blaise's plans for the day. He wasn't Sherry.

"What's wrong?" He asked rather rudely as he sat back down at the desk. Draco looked at his hands for a few seconds and, when Blaise was just about to explode and snap at him, he said in a small voice:

"Have you seen her face?"

Damn right he had. Salazar.

"I have." He'd actually chastely pecked the woman because he'd again found no words to say. Blaise hadn't become a mood lifter overnight, it just took a look at Draco to realise that.

He'd been no better facing a red and swollen eyed Hermione. She'd clearly cried, a lot, and drunk herself to oblivion until morning.

Whatever hair charm Stori could pull, that kind of evening showed on one's face.

But then, it was only one night. She'd just laughed.

She'd been better recently and she was in Stori's hands!

Plus, Blaise knew she had more secrets than that. She'd gotten over those by herself, she didn't need his words, neither Draco's worry.

"She'll get over it." He said.

Draco snorted.

"Why do you care anyway?"

The stubborn silence was really starting on Blaise's nerves. There wasn't so much he could take without snapping.

Couldn't the stubborn idiot confess he liked the woman already and be done with it? What bad could it possibly do?

Blaise had an idea.

Another dangerous idea that could yet again risk their friendship.

Pushing all of Draco's buttons.

The last time hadn't worked so well for him but then, Blaise was running out of creative ideas. And it was so tedious to stand by and not meddle the proper sly way he'd always used. His promise to Draco was a pain in the arse but it had a loophole he could exploit.

He had just needed the opportunity and it was now offered to him on a silver platter.

He'd promised not to meddle behind his back, or plot for him to do things.

Then, he would be meddling for him to say something, and right to his face as well.

No promise broken.

Well it was either that, either yelling and frankly, he didn't feel like yelling.

"What?" He asked for Draco's frown. "Weren't you the one telling me I was a fool to care? Now you're just as …"

"You serious?" Draco cocked a suspicious and incredulous eyebrow. First step. Now he needed to be convincing.

"Yes I am." Blaise nodded. "I thought you only tolerated her because she could break your oath."

"What?" Draco startled. "You can't …" Blaise cut him to infuriate him more:

"I am. You don't really care. I don't see what the …" and it started working:

"Are you for real?" Draco was starting to see a little red and Blaise loved it.

"Again, yes I am. You've been denying you care for months! Now that I believe you, you just ..."

"What's wrong with you? Of course I fucking care!" It was getting harder to repress his smile, Blaise couldn't believe it was working.

"Yeah, right." He dismissed with a snort. "You don't give a shit so stop playing the drama queen."

"Wh … Fuck you! How can you say something …" And now the final blow. If Blaise had known it'd be as easy as that he'd have tried long before.

"I say the truth." He cut. "You barely tolerate her I don't see why you're making such a fuss."

"I barely … what the … I LIKE HER YOU MORON!" Draco snapped, standing up in his anger, and Blaise was physically not able to hold his smirk any longer.

"You like her?" He gushed.

"Yes I do!" Draco barked, too angry to realise what words he was using. "Are you happy now?!"

"Quite." Blaise smirked, or grinned, finally. "Are you?"

Here, realisation hit Draco square in the face. He blanched. If that were possible.

"Fuck."

"Not the answer I expected." Blaise chuckled.

"No, no, no." Draco shook his head, starting around the room. "Fuck!"

"Alright."

"SHUT UP!"

"Okay."

"I can't … No, I didn't mean …"

Nope, there'd be no denial.

"Oh, you did." Blaise cut. "You like her."

"No, I …"

"You kissed her."

"FUCK."

Watching a hysterical Draco was much funnier than listening to it his ears glued to the door, Blaise decided. He'd already quite well lost his shit over a simple thank you note and a pathetic little peck the previous week, realising he actually liked the girl and he was looking FRANTIC.

It was the most emotions Blaise had seen on Draco's face since Hogwarts.

It was jubilating!

Now though, after words, it was time for actions. Although Blaise doubted that part would be as easy. Two miracles couldn't happen in one day. He'd give it one try though.

"What are you waiting for then?" He asked.

"What?"

"Go back there!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want me there!" Draco barked. Right, of course, why not. Let's confess every bloody thought in his head now! What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yes, she does." Blaise dismissed with a chuckle.

"No she doesn't, she'd have said so." Here, again! He should have stopped at the first half of the sentence! Why the hell couldn't he just shut up?

Blaise was grinning, the infuriating moron was grinning. "She gawped at you." He said. "She didn't need to say a thing."

"What? She was …" No, she hadn't. "She checked my hand you moron."

"Right and I'm ugly."

"She did!"

She had!

"You're so stubborn it's …" Blaise sighed. "Go tell her you like her."

"I won't tell her anything." That he was certain of. Telling himself had already led to moronically telling Blaise which was a great, great mistake.

"Why?"

"Because."

Well, how, Draco didn't know, but he had managed to make the lad speechless. It was a first. Although he was now looking at him as if he'd sprouted another leg, somewhere on his face. Draco sighed:

"I'm not doing anything about it Blaise. I will not." He warned, having apparently taken control of his mouth once more. "And you are going to keep your mouth shut even to Stori because if you tell her, it's the last time you'll ever see me. Am I being clear?" He hissed, meaning it. Blaise caught up with the tone and his grin disappeared.

"Crystal." He said, looking serious, both his hands lifted in surrender.

He stood to go then and just before he reached the door he chuckled:

"I can't believe you play prince charming and beat the evil man and then don't want the princess."

Draco had the nasty reflex of grabbing whatever was on hand - a paper weight in the shape of a small bludger this time - and sending it towards Blaise's head.

"FUCK OFF!"

The paper weight banged against the door Blaise had managed to close after him, and the idiot's laughter echoed through it.

Draco started contemplating the idea of smashing his head against it when he actually understood why Blaise was laughing.

WHAT THE HELL HAD JUST HAPPENED?

Hermione didn't like at all the turn the conversation was taking. Not an ounce.

"What did you want to tell me?" She hissed.

Astoria's eyes grew wide, she'd apparently forgotten. However her face screwed in a grimace as she said:

"I met Potter last night."

"What? Where?"

"The prophet. There was a witness yesterday." She said softly.

"Oh Merlin." Hermione growled, of course there'd be. "What did Harry say?"

"That he took care of it."

Hermione snorted: "Right. Like he did last time? Let's cancel the paper and pretend nothing happened?"

"No. I cancelled the paper myself. Potter swore to me that he was going to take Weasley to Mungo's."

"Oh. You …"

"I warned him to stay away from you."

Hermione couldn't utter a single word. Astoria continued: "I also kind of threatened him … I think I managed to scare the crap out of him."

"Really?" Hermione asked dubiously. Astoria's smirk answered for her.

"Anyway." She dismissed the certainly death threat with a wave of her hand. Right, no need to quibble over details. "We agreed on something. It seems that one of your friends has been gossiping for Witch Weekly under a fake name all along so, he let me handle that." She retrieved a small jar from her pocket. Hermione stared at it in confusion for a second before recognising the little insect inside. It had two round marks around its eyes.

She had a little laugh:

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Astoria looked about as proud of herself as Hermione had the first time she'd contemplated the animagi through a jar as well.

"You don't know how much I love you right now." She said.

"She didn't know how much I do. Now she does." Stori smirked. Hermione felt so grateful she almost stood to hug her.

"Merlin … thank you." She practically cried, and then, as Stori pushed the jar to her on the table with a vicious smirk, Hermione poked at it: "Hullo little bitch. How are vacations going?"

"She can't hear you." Stori chuckled. "I silenced the jar."

"Oh." Hermione pouted. "Pity, she won't hear me making the threats a reality."

Astoria chuckled:

"I so can't wait to tell Blaise."

"Draco might like the news as well." Hermione said and regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. She almost slapped herself.

"Yes, he might." Astoria smirked. "He might even kiss you proper on the mouth this time."

"Shut up."

A/N: I've got two new one-shots up for those interested - The man who was expected to - (With Lavender, Ron and Hermione) and a Dramione called - A tale of roses and shit -

Also, I'm on Tumblr now (TheMinimalPen) if you guys ever want a chat.

Love, Lucie.