a/n: I'm leaving town for the holidays tonight, so this chapter is pretty short, but I couldn't resist Dindore's plea in the reviews. Happy Christmas ;)

Also, I am thinking i will need to change the rating to M. My muse is making some demands that I don't think will work in the T rating. I hope that's not going to ruin reading for too many people...

Chapter 5—Malfoy Manor

The sunshine from last weekend was a distant memory as the British summer rain was making the skies gray and the rooms of the manor darker than usual. Draco's week had been painfully slow-moving, each day dragging on into the next. Malfoy Enterprises, while a shell of its former glory, still kept him somewhat busy, but his mind wasn't on finances and deals. Instead, his brain had been stuck on a loop, repeating the scene in Granger's kitchen over and over again. The bubbling cauldron. The smell of chamomile all around them. The softness of her cheek. The feeling of her curl as he had moved it. Her wide eyes staring up at him. Had she been scared? Disgusted? Interested? He dismissed the last option every time it snuck its way past his defenses. One thing was acting like a complete tosser after she had asked for his help with a bloody work project. Another thing entirely to start having delusions of Granger enjoying his company, his touch.

And then you ran away from yet another fight, Draco. Your usual cowardice rearing its head yet again. The voice in his head sounded a lot like his father this time. He had spent his entire childhood being put down for various reasons but being a coward had come up quite a bit. Ironic then that his father had tried to avoid imprisonment by claiming he had been too scared for his family to resist Voldemort. Perhaps it was even true, although he couldn't remember a single time his father had done anything for anyone that wasn't powered entirely by self-interest.

In the end, pretending to be a coward had cost Lucius Malfoy his life when another death eater had stabbed him to death in Azkaban for his claims that he hadn't actually supported the Dark Lord.

Draco threw down the parchment he was holding onto the desk in front of him and sighed in frustration. He had been working to clean up his father's business deals since he took over the company and he was still knee-deep in backwash from illegal business deals and everything else Lucius had left behind. And of course, it didn't matter how hard he was trying to prove that he was different from his father, the ministry continued to run audits and exams. Judging from the smug looks Percy Weasley and his crew gave Draco every time they made him jump through more hoops, Draco was fairly certain they mostly just enjoyed disrupting his efforts at making something good of Malfoy Enterprises.

Maybe he should take a break and go see if the library at the manor had any other potions books, Granger might be able to use. And we're back to Granger again. Damn it whole mess with Granger was screwing with his head. He couldn't get the damn witch out of his mind. Last night he had tossed and turned for hours, and when he finally did fall asleep, the nightmares returned with a vengeance. He tiredly dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his eyes.

A determined knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Plinky is sorry to interrupt Master Malfoy's work but there is someone here to see master." The house elf looked at him with concern as she stepped into his office to give him the message. "Pardon the saying so, Master Malfoy, but Plinky thinks Master should not be seeing someones. Master needs something to eat. And to go to sleep."

She put her fists on her tiny hips and stared him down. Draco tried to hide his smile. Plinky had been with their family for several years before the war, and after the elf liberation legislation had been passed, she had chosen to stay on with the family. She had taken it upon herself to take care of Draco, which apparently involved a lot of bossing him around.

"Thank you, Plinky. I will eat a little later. Who is here to see me?"

"It is Master Nott who is being here and requesting time." For a brief moment, Draco's stomach dropped at the thought of Nott senior being in his house again. He had no pleasant memories of his father's cronies. But no, Nott Senior was still in Azkaban. It had to be Theo. They hadn't really spent any time together after the war and as soon as Theo's probation had ended five years ago, he had left for the United States.

Theo was shown in a few minutes later. The lanky, dark-haired wizard looked around at the room, Draco had turned into an office for himself, refusing to use his father's old office.

"Nice digs, Malfoy." Theo drawled.

"Nott." Draco wasn't exactly excited to see Theo. They had been cordial enough at school, but never hung out much. Theo had kind of kept to himself, and Draco—well Draco had worked hard at being the Slytherin prince, having a following, doing exactly what his father expected of him. "What can I do for you?"

"Just thought I'd stop in. For old times' sake, you know."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at that. "Really?"

Theo was quiet for a moment. "No, not really." He slumped over a bit and looked down at the floor. "My mother died. I came back for the funeral services this morning."

"Shite, Theo, I'm sorry."

"No, it's…" Theo took a deep breath. "She kicked me out, you know. Told me I wasn't welcome in her home anymore." He looked up at Draco.

"I don't even know how to feel. I should be sad, right? I mean, it's my mother! But I just feel…hollow."

"Mrs. Malfoy. Draco." The ministry employee looked at the paper in his hand as if to confirm facts." I've been sent to inform you that Lucius Malfoy died in Azkaban yesterday."

Narcissa gasped and sank down onto a chair. "Died? But, how?" She wrung her hands, her face pale and wan.

"I'm told there was an altercation and another inmate stabbed him with a makeshift shank." The ministry worker quickly put his papers into his briefcase. His face clearly showed that he didn't think Lucius Malfoy's death was a great loss. "Well, I'm off. Thank you for your time." He walked away quickly, grabbing his hat from the house elf by the door.

Draco turned to leave the room as well.

"Draco, darling." Narcissa called out after him. "I know you had your differences, but he was your father…"

"Differences, mother?!" He had scoffed at her, mouth quirked in a bitter smirk. "Is that how we're referring to it now? The beatings, the punishments, the bloody Cruciatus!? Over and over again? Differences?!" He had practically been yelling at his mother, who had blanched at his rage.

"Well, you know how hard it was for him with the Dark Lord living in our home."

Draco's rage turned ice cold. "This was my life long before the Dark Lord moved in, Mother. That just gave Father another reason to punish his incompetent son." He stalked out and slammed the door to the sitting room behind him. His father was dead, and he felt no sorrow. Just relief.

"I didn't know that you left for the States because you were kicked out. Damn mate. What happened? Why did she kick you out?"

"She demanded I leave as soon as my parole was over after…You know what, it doesn't matter. I want to go get absolutely sloshed and forget today completely." Theo looked at Draco. "And I didn't want to drink alone. I couldn't think of anyone else to drag along. Or any places that weren't full of wizards."

"Well, as it so happens, I know a great muggle pub." Draco stood and grabbed his jacket. "Let's go."

Theo looked stunned at that for a moment. "How do you know a muggle pub? Actually, bugger that. Let's go get wasted."

Draco groaned and tried to figure out where he was without moving his head. He blinked against the bright light coming through a window on his right. It had to be midday or so judging from the position of the sun. He slowly oriented himself. Right. He was in his room at the manor, sprawled out on his bed in the same clothes he'd worn to the pub last night. The last thing he remembered was stumbling home through the early morning after leaving Theo by the hotel he was staying at. He and Theo had had a surprisingly good time together, and by the time they parted, Draco had been much too drunk to apparate but had done so anyway, stumbling into his bed at four am.

He tried to sit up and gave up when the room started spinning. Apparently, muggle whisky packed a decent punch after all. When they got to the pub, Granger had taken him to the week prior, Theo had pulled out a wad of muggle money from gods know where, and they quickly figured out how to order what they wanted. Muggle pubs weren't that different, really, they all had the same purpose after all.

He and Theo had gotten sloshed, relived memories from Hogwarts, and ragged on the professors who had given them a hard time. At some point during the night, the war had come up and both men had fallen silent.

"When your parole is done, you should come to America, mate. I can't even begin to tell you how liberating it has been to not have people recognize my family name."

Draco had laughed sarcastically. "By the time my 'parole' is done, I'll be an old man. I don't think the ministry has any intentions of ever giving me any actual freedom back."

Leaving England sounded nice though. He imagined walking down the street without anyone flinching or pointing. Just like at the market with Granger… Draco groaned again. Apparently even a hangover couldn't clear his mind of the witch.

Plinky appeared next to his bed with a tray holding a hangover potion and a piece of toast.

"Plinky brought Master something to feel better with." She said in her squeaky little voice that sounded suspiciously like a jackhammer inside his skull. "And a letter that just arrived for Master." She set the tray down on his nightstand and handed him the potion.

"Thank you Plinky. You are wonderful."

The house elf smiled at him and left his room. Draco carefully rolled to his side and drank the potion down. It worked fairly fast, and he grabbed the letter from the tray, wondering who was writing him. He didn't recognize the writing on the outside addressing the letter to him.

Malfoy,

I'm honestly not sure what happened last Sunday, and I am sorry if I said something to upset you. I want you to know, I am deeply grateful for your help. The potion finally turned out as it should and will be helpful to many people suffering from those specific high fevers. As it has now been stable for a week. I will be presenting it at work and would like your permission to include the altered recipe in the presentation. If that is agreeable, how much information would you like to include? Please let me know when you might have time to meet and discuss.

Sincerely, Hermione Granger.

The letter was short and to the point, just as he would have expected of Granger. Her apology at the end made him feel somewhat nauseous though. She thought she had upset him, when he had been the one acting like an ass and then storming out.

He was done being a coward. He would meet with her, help her write up the recipe, and then offer her an apology for all the things he had done to her during and before the war. He owed her that. Perhaps then, he would finally be able to get the Gryffindor witch out of his mind once and for all.