"I didn't know you smoked, Granger." Draco Malfoy leaned against the brick of the Ministry of Magic's façade, a cigarette dangling daintily from his pianist's fingers. "I'm a pack-a-day myself." He brought the fag up to his lips, holding it much like one would a joint, eyes squinted and taking a deep drag. Hermione watched him, top lip curled in a slight sneer.

"I don't usually," she replied, her manner haughty. "Your father's case is causing me stress." She shoved a slim cigarette between her lips, hurriedly lighting its end. "I've been talking with your family lawyer all day, and the evidence against him keeps getting worse." She exhaled with a relieved sigh, the smoke billowing out in a harsh cloud.

Draco said nothing; instead he stared out across the almost empty backstreet of London. "I know we've never been the dearest of friends, Granger, but I do appreciate what you're doing for my family." He cleared his throat nervously after that admission, and Hermione looked at the sidewalk, blushing for him.

"Right, well, I'm sure your people have made enough notes by now. I should probably go see if Father is done yet." He threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground, squashing it with a pristinely clean black converse sneaker. Hermione had nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of Draco Malfoy wearing muggle shoes when he'd first entered her office, earlier that day.

Hermione sighed to herself, now alone outside of the Ministry, where her office was. One week, exactly seven days, until the biggest trial of her career as a wizarding lawyer. The trial where she would attempt to persuade thirteen angry, vengeful members of the Wizengamot that Voldemort's right hand man deserved to live.

"Thought I may find you out here again," Draco said as he exited through the disguised door. He already had his pack of Marlboro Reds in hand. Hermione looked disdainfully at what he was smoking, her own imported pack of Gauloises tucked snuggly into her pocket. Draco offered her a kind smile, of which she returned with a glare. He looked frightened for a moment before lighting his cigarette.

"How're things coming on my father's case?," Draco asked, not looking at her. "Honest answer only."

"Shit."

Draco snorted, shaking his head as smoke billowed from his nostrils. "When I said honest answer, I meant the one that I wanted to hear."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking at him, nonplussed. "You would see honesty as a white lie." She shook her head and tapped her fingertips against her thigh. He shrugged.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or some shit like that," he said with a wave of his hand.

"That figure of speech is sorely out of context."

"Hence why I said 'or some shit like that'."

"He keeps telling me things he shouldn't, Granger," Draco spat out hurriedly, his fingers shaking as he lit his cigarette. "Telling me how sorry he is for killing those people. Telling me how he did it." He inhaled quickly, exhaling just as fast. "Granger, if they call me up to the stand, we're done. They'll give me Veritaserum, and then we're fucked." He shook his head, tapping his foot anxiously against the pavement. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he kept scrunching up his nose, furrowing his brow.

Hermione ran a hand through her untamed curls before plucking her Gauloise from between her lips. "Don't you have any faith in me at all? This is my job, you know. I studied magical law. It's not just something I decided to take up on weekends."

Draco sighed, throwing his half diminished cigarette to the cement, letting it burn out rather than squash it with the toe of his trainer. "I know, Granger. But I don't think anyone, not even the most successful and experienced lawyer in the world, could possibly be prepared for my father's trial." Hermione only shrugged.

"You're right to be worried about your father, Draco. I am too."

Three days before the trial, and Draco didn't show up. He wasn't outside when Hermione took her usual smoke break, and he wasn't waiting for her in her office as he sometimes had the habit of doing. She'd asked Lucius if he knew where his son was, but he still wouldn't speak to her. Regardless of the fact that she was trying to save his life, Lucius refused to talk to 'that mudblood the Potter boy rubbed elbows with'.

The fact that Draco wasn't there made Hermione nervous. He was under a lot of pressure, and he'd always been one to act rashly, not thinking of the consequences. During her smoke break, she'd crossed her fingers and made a wish that he was still alive. It wouldn't be the first time someone had killed themselves over a court case. It would be a first for Hermione, but not for the rest of the world.

"Where were you yesterday?," she asked aggressively, striding over to him and poking her pointer finger in his chest. "As if it's not enough that I practically have to babysit your father, I have to add you to my list of responsibilities. Look, I can't have you offing yourself before this trial. That would just look entirely too incriminating for your father, and you'd both end up dead in the end." She sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just... show up, okay? Don't leave me alone to worry like that."

"Did you miss me?" This was said without the usual smirk, the one Hermione expected to see when she opened her eyes.

"No, I didn't. I was too worried over the thought of you ruining my case to even consider missing you. Which will only happen when hell freezes over, anyway." She watched as his lips began to curl, began to twist and turn into that trademark smirk that she'd seen so many time, thought of twice as much.

"Must've been a pretty cold day in hell yesterday, then."

Hermione locked the door of her office, heading across the atrium of the ministry to the door. It was nearing midnight, and she still had a small stack of files to go over before the trial tomorrow. She was exhausted. Had she more than a few hours to go before the trial, she might not make it. Opening the door to the street, she jumped at the sight of Draco, puffing away silently. In essence, it was like every other smoke break they had shared, except she wasn't smoking and it was the middle of the night.

"I can't sleep," he mumbled gruffly when he saw her. She blinked, looking at him, before stepping out onto the street.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I don't know what I can do to help you. I suggest you head home and try to at least rest for a few hours. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Draco's eyes burned with sudden aggression and he tossed his cigarette to the ground. "Don't patronize me, Granger. Don't you think I've tried? Don't you think I expected that answer?" He growled lowly, running his fingers through his platinum hair in distress. "There is something you can do for me, Granger. You know it, and I know it, but I want you to admit it to yourself."

Hermione found her eyes filling with tears and she knew she desperately needed sleep. She refused to look at him, instead focusing on a dark splotch of gum, hardened and flattened against the sidewalk. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she said in a tone so quiet it almost wasn't heard.

"Why did you take this case, Granger? Maybe the answer to that question will help you answer the other."

She bit her lip until it almost bled and gasped shakily, not realizing that she had been holding her breath.

"I took this case because it is my job, Draco. That is the only answer, and I'm sorry if it isn't the one you want to hear."

"The thirteen wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, as convened today, have unanimously decided that Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, charged with numerous counts of murder to the first and second degrees, sexual assault, and assault causing bodily harm, is guilty. Mr. Malfoy is sentenced to life, with no parole, in Azkaban Prison."

Hermione almost fainted then, with the announcement of her victory. Lucius hadn't been able to escape Azkaban, but that was expected. What shocked her most was that he had escaped the Dementor's kiss. She looked around the room, looking up into the public seating, where she spotted Draco, paler than usual. She offered him a weak smile, which he didn't return. She looked next to her, to Lucius, who was being helped to stand by two guards, as both his wrists and ankles were shackled. His eyes were glossy with impending tears but he was smiling, alive. If there was one thing Hermione had learned about Slytherins, it was their need of self-preservation.

She found Draco outside the Ministry again, after the reporters had disappeared back to their hovels. He wasn't smoking now, just leaning against the brick wall, a faraway look in his eyes. She walked over to him, though kept her distance, still confused from last night's encounter. He turned his head to look at her, staring with clear, grey eyes, studying her. She felt naked under her gaze, sure he could hear and see and feel everything she was thinking.

"I thought I may find you out here," she said finally, breaking the silence.

"I was waiting for you to find me," he replied, his voice low, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Why?"

He leaned towards her, his aristocratic hands reaching out cup her face in both palms. His thumbs slid over her delicate cheekbones in a timeless cares. Hermione's thickly lashed eyelids slid closed and her face tilted slightly, every freckle spotlighted by the setting sun. Draco's thumb slipped, dragging slowly across the plump, light coral cushion of her lower lip. He could feel her slow breathing, could sense her anxiety and her want. It was the same as his. He closed the distance between them, smoothing his lips over hers in a kiss that was barely there, but there all the same. She returned his kiss tenderly as the shadows grew around them and the night began to fall.

One kiss was escaped, while another was met most eagerly.