A/N- This is the last part to the story! Sorry it came out so strange and short. As always, tell me what you think!

There wasn't even a knock on the door before Ginny barged in, all cocky and ready to rub in her confident "I told you so"s. She strolled right on into the living room, where she barely took note of the curled up body on the couch that had once been her closest friend.

"Look at you, coming in so late. Your hair looks amazing by the way, it's got this whole 'I just had sex' look to it. It suits you," she said with a smile, humming as she went through the cupboards like she owned the place. Seeing as she lived next door, had the key to Hermione's flat, and frequently came over in the morning for pancakes, it seemed that she did.

"It was Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, yes. Even Malfoy wouldn't have held up against your charm last night. I swear, at first I thought you were going to completely bomb, but when you two started dancing. Oh, sweetie, you should do that more often," came the reply from the kitchen over the clang of dishes as Ginny started arranging for their Sunday breakfast.

"No, Ginny. It was Draco Malfoy," her voice was so grim and gray that it formed an ominous cloud over her head. The clatter of plates stopped and there was silence.

Ginny's red, bobbling head suddenly appeared on level with Hermione as she dropped down on her knees in front of the couch. If Hermione weren't still in a state of shock, she would have commended her friend at freaking her out even more.

"What?" Was her intelligent response.

"Malfoy. As in, the blimey idiot from school who called me names and then turned deatheater. The man I danced with, slept with, INTERCOURSE. FUCKING MALFOY," She screeched, her hands turning into claws as they reached out for Ginny, called for blood.

Ginny, always a quick-witted gal was fast to move back from the rage. "Hey, I did not set you up with him! He came onto you!" She was also fast to relay as she got up from the floor and moved behind the safety of the chair opposite Hermione. Despite still being seated on the couch, Hermione was livid and Ginny searched the surrounding area for a wand, or any sharp objects.

"If you hadn't dragged me to that fucking hell hole, none of this would have happened!"

"True, but-"

"No, Ginny. No fucking buts. It is your fault and it was all because you thought it was oh so much better to go screwing around than to simply cope with your feelings and let me deal with my issues the way I usually do!"

The second the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them.

"Harry wants to get married, but I don't," Ginny confessed.

"What?" For a moment, Hermione's worries were gone as she studied her friend.

"Harry and I, we've been fighting because I'm not ready to commit completely," the words came gushing out and Hermione was off the couch and by her friend.

"But, you two love each other. What are you talking about?"

"I just feel insecure because he's always gone."

"Why are you telling me this now? And why haven't you just talked it out with him? I'm sure he'd fix this right up." She pulled her friend into a fierce hug, already the thoughts of her sexual encounters gone.

"Because I'd rather screw around than face my issues," Ginny said with a weak laugh.

"Oh, shut up." And they were both laughing, Malfoy a somewhat distant memory.

"So what if she left. Wasn't that the whole point of your stupid pill?" Blaise was having a hard time sympathizing, after coughing up the ten galleons Draco demanded when he came over to his house that Sunday afternoon. He now laid sprawled on Draco's couch, not a care in the world as he tossed up and down a piece of paper he'd found crumpled on the floor.

"It's not stupid, and that's not what I'm getting at! I actually wanted to know who this witch was," Malfoy sighed as he plopped down on the recliner in front of his childhood friend.

"I thought she wasn't your taste," Blaise mocked.

"Oh, and you always take me seriously. Wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you," he hissed in return, and with a flick of his wand the paper Zambini was playing with went flying into the trash bin. That made his happiness falter, but it was brief. Too brief.

"Was she really that memorable?"

"Not her looks, no but that was because of the spell. I didn't make it to enhance and make people outrageously attractive. I just did it to manipulate the face enough that you're not recognizable. Really, I meant it to be used for Aurors."

"Oh, going down the 'kiss the Ministry's arse' road, are you?"

"I'm not even going to oblige that comment with a response."

"Ah, but you did."

"Shut it, Blaise. Like I was saying, it wasn't her looks. She was just, memorable. Her body, which I had no meddling in, was outrageous," he breathed, his mind ogling at the feel of her beneath his fingertips. He didn't have to mention how she was in bed, because it was for him to know and only him. He wanted to keep it that way, and to do so he had to find her.

"Ah, and there's the truth, spewing out like your guts." The cocky grin on Blaise's face made Malfoy, for once in a very long time, want to use one of the unforgivable curses.

"What? Don't tell me you actually liked her personality," he went on when he saw the state Draco's face was in. The blonde rolled his eyes, turning away to stare a hole into the wall.

"And if I did?"

"Honestly? She looked like such a prude," Blaise muttered, bewildered. The edges of Draco's lips twitched upwards.

The less his whore of a friend knew, the better for him. The last thing he needed was Blaise trying to find her for the wrong reasons. And find her, Blaise would.

"Well, it's a new taste I've acquired and you're going to help me figure out who she is."

"Miss Granger?"

A large avalanche of paper and quills fell, revealing Hermione in all her flustered glory as she scrambled to fix the things she'd been moving around her office. "Oh, sorry," she exclaimed, grabbing up the pile of files she'd dropped as one of her interns looked on with concern and partial amusement.

"Are you alright?" He asked, watching as Hermione picked up and dropped a few rolls of parchment. She nodded curtly, springing up and brushing off her working robes.

"Yes, yes. Um, are they ready?" She asked, shoving back a stray strand of hair that was poking out of its bun. As soon as she tamed one, multiple others popped out. The intern at her door smiled.

"Yes, ma'am, they're waiting for you three rooms down the left," he replied before slipping out of Hermione's office. She breathed in through her nose, slowly and deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves.

It wasn't working.

Distressed, Hermione made her way to the meeting room, her head held high and her body rigid in preparation for the battle she was charging into.

When she opened the door, Harry's smiling face greeted her, along with Neville's, and Ron's not so smiling face. Added on top of that was the bleach blonde head that sat opposite them.

"Took you long enough," Malfoy huffed, arms crossed as he sat back in the chair so casually any unknowing onlooker would have thought he ran the place. As if she wasn't ready to leap out and strangle him.

"I'm sorry, weren't you the one who requested this meeting about your product that you're trying to market to us?" Hermione spoke sharply as she moved to her seat at the head of the table.

Malfoy grimaced and sat up, adjusting the tie that Hermione could see very easily tightening just a little too much with a flick of her wand.

"Hermione, what exactly is he pitching to us?" Harry asked, Ron staying mute beside him. Hermione made sure not to look in that redhead's direction. She didn't want to go to Azkaban for one lifetime, let alone two.

Clearing her throat, Hermione dispersed the files on Polypill to her three companions. "Malfoy's independent potions business has created a pill that encompasses the workings of polyjuice potion. It supposedly will help on the field but it's still in the testing stages and I wasn't even around when it was passed through my department," she explained to the others.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was the one who requested this meeting about my product that I'm trying to market to you?" Malfoy interrupted, scowling as usual. Hermione pursed her lips, holding back an onslaught of colorful words.

"What she meant to say was that I created a pill that changes appearances for, in theory, a complete day as it lasts until sunrise. Over the last few months, I've been tampering with it to see if I could get the full effect of polyjuice potion without the need to wait for it to brew, and without the need of another's DNA. It's quick and painless, and it's convenient for quick changes on the field. As aurors, I thought it would be extremely useful," Malfoy expanded, and despite the differences all them shared, the others seemed convinced. Well, except for Hermione.

Neville looked over the file, his study in herbology the reason why Hermione brought him in on this conference. "It seems stable enough, and I think Ginny brought this to me two weeks ago too, to make sure since you weren't here, 'Mione," he concluded, looking up at her with well-meant optimism. He was met with a rather chilling look that puzzled him.

"Granger, absent from work? Must be the dawn of a new age," came the snarky remark Hermione had been waiting on. Her head turned stiffly towards Malfoy, a snarl fighting against the forced smile she still had pasted on her lips.

"I was feeling ill, and actually, I'm beginning to have the same symptoms of disgust," she replied cynically. There was a cough from the other side of Harry, who was holding down a grimace.

"What, Ronald? Have something to say?" She snapped.

"Nope, nothing," he squeaked, rummaging through the file as if he actually understood a word in there. Could he even read?

"Well! If that's everything," Harry interjected, about ready to run out of the room before Hermione's hexes blew them all to bits, "I'll take this back to the others and see what they think. Personally, I like it but until we know it can fully take the place of polyjuice potion, I can't say yes just yet."

And, with that, he was up. Ron was already out of the room and Harry and Neville were quickly rushing out.

"Sure know how to clear a room, Granger." Malfoy, for some bloody reason Hermione could not fathom, was still rendezvousing in her chair, in her meeting room, in her department. And since there wasn't another living soul in sight, it was getting extremely hard not to kill him.

"Get out, Malfoy," she hissed, refusing to leave until he did. It was a constant standoff between the two of them.

"Having trouble with Weasley? What a shame. You two deserved each other," he continued on without a care, eyeing her with delight.

"That is none of your concern, now get out," she spat out. The wand in her pocket was looking dreadfully alluring. Merlin, how could she have slept with this vile creature?

Ginny couldn't apologize more.

And there was the straw that snapped her back.

"I don't have time for your idiocy, Malfoy. I have bigger things to deal with than the ramblings of an ignorant, bigoted twat such as yourself. Move on, and get over yourself. Lord knows the rest of us have!" Hermione grabbed up her papers and gunned for the door.

As she was opening it, she heard Malfoy laugh. Her nerves were completely on edge as she turned around to glare him down. "What?" She seethed.

"Everyone but you, you mean," he remarked.

"What?"

"Everyone has gotten over me, but you," he repeated as he stood up from his seat and meandered over to where Hermione stood, rolling off toxic hatred. "You still get your knickers in a twist around me." He took far too much pleasure in that statement.

"Oh don't fancy yourself so much, Malfoy. I'm having a hard time right now, and you were just lucky enough to be around. Enjoy the attention you just got because it is quickly leaving."

She yanked open the door and stormed out, the flesh memory of those damn fingers racing down her curves making everything that more unbearable.

"Let's go through this, again," came the exhausted voice of Blaise from somewhere on the rug in Malfoy's flat. It had been an entire week since Draco had met Mary at the Black Cauldron and neither of them had found a single clue as to who the mystery woman was.

"You went up to her, and she was with her friend who said that she'd been dating for a while-"

"Or married, by the way she stood on the dance floor. She could have been married," Malfoy reasoned from the couch where he lay face down. Blaise shook his head, staring up at the ceiling in hopes that it would confess all its secrets, like who was under its roof last Saturday night.

"Or that she'd been married. She was ready to leave, and had no interest in getting involved… are you sure that wasn't just because it was you?"

"Blaise," Malfoy warned against the pillow.

"Okay, okay. So, she has the personality of a lemon and the body of a goddess and a friend who obviously wanted her to get shagged."

"Yes."

"We found ourselves a keeper," Blaise dryly commented.

"Fucking hell, Blaise. I have a wand and I will use it to permanently injure you!" Draco howled, making his threat known even further when he began to sit up and search for his wand.

Blaise shot up and held his hands up in surrender. "Don't go nuts! This is, technically, your fault. If you hadn't made that polypill, you would have known who she was. Then again, she would have known who you are too." Both of them grimaced.

"She probably wouldn't have gone in without it, though," Malfoy argued.

"Either way, you're screwed. There's nothing to go off of… unless. Did she leave anything here?"

Besides her underwear… "No."

"Did you check?"

"Not really, no, but there wasn't anything noticeable."

"Anything she say when she got here?"

Draco smiled. "She said it was too green," he remembered and then it came to him. "Ah! She was looking at our House ring. Do you think she knew what the green stood for?"

"Now you're stretching it."

"It's all I have to go off of!" He exclaimed, exasperated. Blaise sighed, rubbing the stubs that were starting to form on his cheeks.

"Have you shaved recently?" Malfoy asked. Blaise cast him a side-glance.

"Does it matter?"

"Possibly. Since when do you not shave? You're always spot on," Draco commented. His friend sighed, crumbling another piece of parchment he had no right to play with and tossing it up in the air.

"I actually miss Pansy."

"You're mad."

"Says the bloke who's in love with a complete prude," Blaise scoffed.

"I never said I was in love, you idiot," Draco corrected, wary of this subject. Blaise grinned, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, mate." He made a toss for the trashcan and the paper ball bounced off the rim.

"Clean up after yourself, you git," Draco muttered as he dropped back down onto the couch. With a groan, Blaise got up from his spot on the rug and moved over to the waste bin. When he went to dump his toy in the garbage, though, he stopped and peered at one of the other papers inside.

"Hey, Draco, since when do you write in such beautiful cursive?"

"Blaise, I seriously do not want to hear another word come out of your fucking mouth right now," Draco grumbled against the cushion, shutting his eyes and chanting a mantra that demanded for his friend to vanish into thin air.

Instead, a piece of crumbled paper was shoved in his face. "What the hell?" He sputtered, sitting up right and grabbing at the obstruction.

"Read, Draco, and be amazed," came Blaises' amused comment.

Malfoy looked up at him warily. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just read, dimwit."

Begrudgingly, Draco looked down at the piece of notebook paper, torn at the edges as if it had been ripped to bits. On it was the fine, delicate manuscript of a woman.

Ron,

I can-

The fa-

LAV-

pathetic-

Despite being torn up, Draco had no doubt in his mind whose this was.

"First, you confess your love for Weasley gingers, and now you reveal you're a complete sucker for the loves of those Weasley gingers."

Blaise never saw Malfoy's fist coming.

Hermione refused to take another day off of work, despite the onslaught of owls Ron sent her asking for forgiveness that would never come and the weight of keeping track of Malfoy's ridiculous endeavors in the field of potions and enchantments. She'd had to work closely with his business, and sometimes even the bigot himself, in order to talk out the requirements he needed to meet in order to be approved once changes were done to Polypill. He was quick, she had to admit, in adjusting the concoction so that it enhanced the effects.

It was getting high praise in the Ministry. The only one who seemed bitter was her and even her attitude was starting to change.

The week's end couldn't come fast enough and when she walked into her flat on Saturday night expecting Ginny's onslaught of gushing and pleading to go somewhere, she met emptiness.

With a heavy sigh, she dropped her bag onto the floor and kicked off her shoes. Part of her wanted to sleep but another, emerging part of her wanted to punch the other half and do something with her life. Hermione hated coming back to the echo of a home, where Ron and she used to take up so much room. Mainly, it was Ron, and so now it just felt extremely large and hollow.

She felt the urge to move out, but then she remembered Ginny, living right next door.

"Hermione, your friend is in need of a pick-me-up. You can do this," she self-motivated. Her ability to cheer others up, at this point, was at an all-time low but Ginny was always there and for some mad reason stuck around for two weeks as Hermione mourned Ron like one would the dead. Hermione had to gather up her courage and put on her best smile.

When she knocked on Ginny's door, there wasn't an answering "coming!" to be heard. So, she knocked again, and again. As Hermione was considering apparating inside and demanding to know what was wrong, the locks began to unbolt.

"For Merlin's sake, Ginny, why did you-Oh, Harry," Hermione greeted, momentarily stunned. Harry smiled sheepishly, the door covering him conveniently from the waist down.

"Your glasses, they're um," she mumbled, automatically feeling awkward. Harry's hand jerked up to adjust his spectacles, which were somewhere between his mouth and left earlobe.

"Uh, thanks. Um, Ginny's-"

"I get it. Going," Hermione was fast to reply, waving a hand in the air as Harry stammered to say something but ended up just smiling briefly before shutting the door.

"Well then." It was time for plan B, which was basically plan A but without Ginny involved. Hermione as going to head back to the Black Cauldron and, this time, she was going in as herself.

If she wanted someone to fill in the void left in her flat, and someone who would be willing to go couch shopping with her once she got rid of Ron's, Hermione had to be herself.

But, as soon as she walked in after getting a look of unease from the bouncer, Hermione's resolve crumbled. She would have done much better in a disguise, but now that she was through the doors Hermione had no option but to go through with her poorly put together plan.

She steered through the crowd of witches and wizards, none of whom were looking for a long standing relationship, and found herself right where she'd been last time she was here: by the emergency exit.

"Horrible idea," she scolded herself. This was the only club she knew of, and it was also the worst kind for her. Everyone here wanted one-night stands or just to have fun for the night. Nothing serious, as she was hoping for. She frowned, eyeing the door once more and contemplating finally slipping through it and into the streets.

"Would be a shame to see you go," a jarring voice called from behind her. Hermione jumped, turning to face the person who spoke and sincerely praying it wasn't who she thought it was. But, alas, the blonde, gray-eyed Malfoy stood in front of her without a single facial feature altered- except for the peculiar smile on his face.

She was waiting for a low blow insult to come flying out of his pretty little mouth but instead, she was greeted with awaiting silence. And he seemed, humorously enough, to be growing uneasy.

Her look of shock melted and she gave him a questioning smile, in awe that Draco Malfoy was actually trying to flirt with her. She couldn't even begin to reason how he'd figured her out, but at this point she didn't care.

"That makes two of us," she replied and she knew she'd said the right words because the grin that had been slowly slipping from his face grew in force.

"Care for a dance?"

"I'm not good at dancing, you know," Hermione replied, glowing as she took Malfoy's extended hand.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine," Draco laughed, his other hand finding its home in the curve of her hip.

And Ron's couch found it's home, the next day, in the garbage beside Hermione and Draco's flat.