Blaise was pacing back and forth the length of the living room, his thumb under his chin and forefinger on his bottom lip, a thoughtful expression on his face.  

And it was getting on Draco’s nerves. He’d been doing it ever since he and Granger had begun explaining what had happened at the park and hadn’t stopped since.

Granger wasn’t so much on edge from it, but more impatient. She’d started off in an upright stance at the table, but as time wore on she’d been sinking further and further into the seat. Now, she was slouched so much Draco could only see her from the neck up, her arms folded and making out patterns in the wood. Her eyes flickered up when she sensed him looking at her.

Draco quickly adverted his gaze and instead pretended to be looking around the flat, before shifting on the sofa for the hundredth time to get the pins and needles from his leg. He looked over to Blaise who had now taken to mumbling under his breath.

He and Granger had not spoken of the previous night. He had a feeling they would though, what with the glances she would sometimes shoot him, the ‘I-still-haven’t-forgotten’ look. She was going to approach the subject again, and despite that Draco wanted to know what she thought about him now, simultaneously he didn’t entirely want to know what she thought about him now. He was, well, ashamed he had let her see so much emotion. Proper men didn’t cry. And Draco could not help but feel a little apprehensive, would she use what he’d told her against him?

Because they most definitely weren’t friends. But then, what were they? People you loathed weren’t generally the ones who held you when you cried, or even bothered to offer comfort. So not enemies, but not friends and neither acquaintances.

So what?

“The Death Eater’s are recruiting themselves,” Blaise said, pulling Draco from his reverie. “But we’re missing the bigger picture here.”

“And what exactly is that, if I may ask?” Granger asked wearily, sitting up.

Blaise glanced from her to Draco, a little startled. “How can this not have crossed your minds? They’re Death Eaters, followers. So, what we really have to ask ourselves here is who is it they’re following when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead?”

A brief silence followed his words.

“I think what you both need to realise,” spoke Granger quietly. “Is that this is not our job. We need to report this to the Aurors right away.”

“We don’t have enough info to report,” said Draco, exasperated.

“But what we do know may help. We know Nott’s there of his own accord, and quite possibly your fath…” Granger stopped there, her body tensed before she could finish, watching Draco very closely as if to prepare for a storm.

But Draco merely sighed. He was so tired of the pity looks she gave him. “Yes, my father may also be there of his own accord.”

“The more they know the better. They’re going to need as much information as possible.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll go turn in my own father, shall I?”

“I’m sorry, but –”

“It’s for the greater good?” When no one responded, Draco shot up from the lounge. “We don’t even know if what Theodore said was true! He could have been lying, or maybe he doesn’t even know where my father is. Have either of you considered that?”

“It’s a possibility,” mused Blaise, far too used to Draco’s temper for it to have any real affect on him. Granger, on the other hand, looked a smidge uncomfortable. “But, mate, it’s best to let the Aurors know what you know anyway. Theodore saying your father rejoined doesn’t mean anything unless they actually catch them all and prove it.”

“Ah. Okay then. So in the meantime I’ll let them throw around the Malfoy name with this new piece of dirt they have on us, sound good?”

“Draco –”

“Do you want me to go down there?” Granger offered. “I’ll convince them to keep everything quiet.”

“Things like this always get out,” he sneered. “Besides, I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’ll do it myself, right now.” He Apparated.

Hermione huffed and banged her forehead onto the table.

“Well, isn’t he a little ray of fucking sunshine,” Blaise observed.

Hermione grunted.

“What’d you do to piss him off? He seems more like a chick on PMS than usual.”

She chose to ignore that comment and mumbled, “He’s always angry with me.”

“True, but this time it’s different.”

“He has various types of anger?” Hermione asked, raising her head in time to see Blaise jump onto the table. He raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione groaned. “Of course he would have.”

“It’s not like his usual frustration with you, this time he actually seems to have a reason for it. Almost like a defensive kind of pissed. Am I right? It wouldn’t be because you ate all of his apples, would it? Because I’ve done that before, and let me tell you I can still feel the bruise where he –”

“No, I did not eat his apples,” Hermione cut in.

“Hmm,” he pursed his lips. “Then where have I – oh!”

“Oh?”

“Oh!”

“Oh what?”

“Oh! I know!”

“You know?”

“I know!”

“What do you know?”

“He told you!”

Hermione knew instantly what he was referring to, though she could not help the surprise that must have shown on her face. How in the world had he figured that out? She studied Blaise a little closer, wondering if he was human.

“I know my eyes are beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, lip quirking upward. “I also like long walks on the beach, large breasted women, and vibrating  –”

“Stop!” said Hermione, quickly deciding that this kind of talk was not suitable for her ears.

He looked very pleased with himself, but then Blaise straighten up on the table and turned his body to face hers better. The amusement slowly disappeared from his gaze as he said, “He told you though, didn’t he? I’ve only seen that look in his eyes once, and that was when he told Pansy and I.”

She nodded.

“Christ,” he murmured. “How’d you convince him to do that? Strip tease, lap dance, heavy petting…?”

Hermione scowled. “Believe it or not but none of those.”

He watched her a moment longer, head tilting to the size, and Hermione shifted in her seat. She thought he looked as if he were trying to figure something out.

“You know, if you and Draco had been any other two people, I would have expected something like that to have happened by now.” 

“What?”

“Think about it, Hermione. You’re a woman and Draco’s a man… most days. You’re both of the opposite sex, both good-looking and both single. If you were normal, you’d have sexed each other up to hell and back by now.”

“What?” she said again, somewhat outraged. “You really think just because of those three factors we’d have slept together? You know, some people are not ruled by sex; sometimes it is possible to live with the opposite sex and have no – no sex! At all! Ever!”

“Calm down, Granger,” he said, waving her off. “No need to get into a fluster.”

“You have a very big problem distinguishing porn from reality,” she said. “And get off the table.”

He shot her a look that reminded Hermione very much of the looks Ron had often, and still sometimes did, give his mother, but complied nonetheless.

He leaned into the chair and placed his hands behind his head lazily, staring at a point somewhere beyond her, and for a long time there was silence. But it was comfortable, and was another one of those times when Hermione acknowledged how strange and out of control her life was getting. She was sitting beside Blaise Zabini willingly for Merlin’s sake – he’d had her at wand point not five years ago. And yet there they were, sitting quietly at her dining table.

“Do you think he’s a bad person?”

It took Hermione a moment to realise who he was referring to. She glanced at Blaise to see he wasn’t looking at her at all, but rather the sleeves of his shirt, fingertips drumming on the table.

She thought about the question. All Malfoy’s bad choices and actions came to mind first (because there had been a lot of them). But then all the good choices he’d made also came to her (because he’d also had his fair share of them too, no matter how small).

“No,” she said at last.

This surprised him. “He did tell you what happened? With Astoria?”

Hermione nodded.

He stared for several moments, then chuckled with disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong Granger, I’m thrilled you think he’s an all right bloke, but why…?”

“Because bad people don’t try to be good people,” she said simply. “He’s doing the best he can and that’s all anybody can ask for. Yes, he may be struggling with it more so than others, but he’s trying. And I think that says a lot.”

Blaise was looking at Hermione as though he’d never seen her. “You’re saying this even after everything he’s put you through? During Hogwarts, sixth year, what his aunt did, and now this?”

“During Hogwarts he was a git, no denying. But he’d never really caused serious damage to anyone. He was just a bully. His sixth year, and I’ve never blamed Malfoy for it, was because he never really had a choice. He was just a sixteen-year-old kid who was focused into a world he wasn’t ready for. He was doing it to save those he loved in the only way he knew how. People do terrible things when they’re afraid. What his aunt did was beyond his control, he couldn’t have done anything even if he wanted to.”

“He wanted to.”

“Pardon?”

Blaise looked as though he hadn’t meant to say anything, his eyes were slightly wide, and Hermione thought if he weren’t trying to make it look less obvious, he’d have a hand over his mouth too. 

“What’d you say?” she asked again.

Blaise stared nervously at her, racking his brain for a cover up, and then when he clearly didn’t come up with a good excuse, he started laughing. “Oh Granger, hearing voices? I thought that was Potter’s specialty. Gosh,” he reached over and ruffled her hair, casually untangling his fingers when they got stuck. “You’re such a funny one! Ever considered a career as a comedian?”

Hermione shoved his hand away. “What did you mean? He wanted to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Nope.”

“Blaise,” she said sternly.

“Oh, fine! Okay, so I may have said something.” He sighed in defeat. “Never let him know I told you this, but he wanted to do something, Hermione. He was a wreck for weeks afterwards. At first we thought it was the war taking it’s toll on him, but then one night in his sleep he called out your name and woke up in a cold sweat.” He paused. “It wasn’t just with you either. He was a mess during the whole thing. Sixth year in particular. My bed was right beside his and there were nights his whimpering would wake me and the rest of the frigging dorm up. A couple times we’d ask what was up, but it only made him mad until he’d ignore us completely. Sometimes he’d go straight back to sleep, at least that’s what he had us believing. Others he’d just sit up for hours pretending to read, and once or twice he’d let me Theodore stay up with him. Only to talk about nothing important. No one ever brought it up. Usually we’d make fun of each other for stuff like that, but this time we all knew it was… different.”

“He was too young for any of that,” she said softly after a moment.   

“I know,” said Blaise, giving Hermione a weak smile. “But weren’t we all?”

***

“And that’s the whole truth, is it?” asked Weasley, for what had to be the seven hundredth time.  

Draco bared his teeth. Who was Weasley to look at him like there was no bigger, lying scum in the universe? The prat should be damn well happy Draco even wasted his time on this. He wished there had been someone else other than this riff-raff to speak with. But, of course, all the other’s had been too busy. Figures Weasley would be the only one doing nothing productive.

Draco fists clenched and he willed himself to stay calm. “Yes, Weasel. I won’t say it again.”

He turned to leave, but then Weasley called out to him, making Draco stop in his tracks.

“What are you doing with Hermione?”

He didn’t turn around for a second, and instead focused on his breathing. Draco breathed in and out again long and deep before he spoke. “I didn’t come here to discuss Granger, I came here to give you valid information, which I have now given so farewell.”

“You’re not even worth her time, why not get out of her life?”

Draco whirled around. “Are you deaf Weasley? I said I’m not here to talk about her!”

“Why are you living with her?” he persisted. Draco took in the look of desperation on his face with a start.

“That’s between me and her. Ask her if you wish, but I doubt she’ll be able to tell you much.” 

“What the hell does –?”

But Draco had already begun walking backwards to the door again, just long enough to say, “You can’t know everything about your friends, Weasley.” And then he was gone.

***

When Draco came back to the flat with a fresh coffee from the Wizarding Starbucks in his hand (because, really, who didn’t need a coffee after speaking with Weasley?) he was greeted with a very memorable sight indeed.

Granger and Blaise were dancing. Ballroom dancing. 

________________________________________

Next chapter; here's a different type of preview.  

“I wasn’t checking her out!” he said a bit too loudly, because more people around them looked over. He repeated lower, “I was not checking her out.”

Blaise hummed and strode off for the vegetables section. Draco, thoroughly irritated and with a need to make sure Blaise believed him, followed quickly. 

“I really wasn’t,” he persisted.

“Then why are you getting so defensive?”