"Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

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Draco waited until he heard a door close from somewhere upstairs, and then he pressed his palms over his eyes and swore. Loudly.

He sat down in the nearest seat and repeated the scene. He had arrived at the flat; heard Potter yelling; had thought about Disapparating and coming back later when his name was mentioned, quickly followed by Granger defending him; he had felt gratified that she was sticking up for him, then angry because he should not be feeling that at all and then even angrier because of what Potter was saying; he tried taking his resentment out on her; Granger had went into a long speech that basically said he was a git, and then she’d admitted she liked him. A lot.

It’d made Draco feel startled at first, then amazed. Amazed by the guts she had, looking him directly in the eye and admitting to such a thing. It was not like he’d thought she hated him before that, of course. He knew that whatever hate they’d shared at the beginning was gone. But still. Saying the words out loud made it real, and hearing them spoken did something to Draco, had made his head almost dizzy with what that meant for them now that they were no longer pretending their relationship was ordinary. And then his body had moved of it’s own accord, closer to hers until there was nothing but them and them alone, and suddenly it was like he knew what he was doing, knew how close their bodies were, but was far too gone in the moment to care.   

Her courage was contagious, he decided. The way she’d looked up at him and spoken so clearly had made him want to be brave too, and he’d found himself telling her something he’d never planned to – disrupting the silent agreement between them to never openly acknowledge whatever friendship they had struck up.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. Friendship. With Hermione. That’s what it was. They were friends – had been for a while now.  

But… the word ‘friends’ didn’t sit right. It was, dare he think it, more than that. With Astoria he had always viewed her as Daphne’s little sister, the person he talked to and had felt comfortable with. And it had only ever happened once, but one night he’d been watching Tracey Davis flirt with Blaise, seen how they talked and talked and how at ease they seemed. Draco remembered wondering if maybe what he had with Astoria was love after all, only he just couldn’t see it. Wasn’t communication the key to relationships? He had that better with Astoria than anyone. She understood him. He remembered wondering what if he loved her, and he just didn’t know it yet? But as he had been thinking, Pansy had came up and kissed him, and then she’d mentioned the idiotic move she’d seen Weasley do that day during Quidditch practise, and he had laughed and almost forgotten about anything and everyone else. Later, he wondered about how Astoria never made him laugh like Pansy. Didn’t they say laughter was also important?

Except, there was a lot of maintenance with Pansy. She was always wanting him to prove he cared and have him convince her she was the prettiest girl in Hogwarts every few days. Or she would talk to him about things he did not care about, like some Hufflepuff who got a bad perm but would say it was still better looking than Hermione Granger’s.

It was only a year after the war Draco concluded he had never loved neither women.

But the word ‘friends’ had always felt right, with both of them. It did not fit what Granger was to him. Felt wrong. Or was that just because she was someone he had once hated?

Only… when he kissed her, it didn’t feel wrong. He knew that it should be wrong, had told himself over and over again that it was in the hopes it would sink through, but the fact remained it felt… well, right. As though he was finally doing the correct thing for once in his wasted life.

Draco groaned and let his head fall back so that he was looking up at the ceiling. No, he couldn’t think like that. This was Granger, for Christ’s sake. She was off limits.

His eyes suddenly widened. That was it! He only felt this way because he knew he couldn’t have her. It felt right when they kissed because they had some kind of sexual chemistry. It was nothing but physical.

Only that it wasn’t. Physical attraction had nothing to do with the stupid half-smile he got whenever he watched her make dinner and hear her humming along to some Muggle song; had nothing to do with the way he could memorise he way she liked her tea; had nothing to do with when she leaned over him he would always breathe in deeply the smell of her shampoo.

But Draco ignored all this, because he could not allow himself to look any further than lust; could not allow himself to think that he actually felt something for her, because that would disrupt the balance, would disrupt the whole order of things, where she was at Potter’s side and he at his father’s, and Draco did not know if he was ready for that.

Yet. 

***

“How many guys have you kissed?”

Hermione glanced at Pansy in mild surprise, the question oddly childish, but did not put down the shirt she was currently examining.

“Kind of personal, don’t you think?” she commented.

Pansy half-smiled as she leant against the nearest wall. “Hermione, when you have a female best friend, nothing is ever ‘too personal’.”

She looked back at Pansy again, this time in more than just mild surprise. “We’re best friends?” she asked.

Pansy’s expression wavered, now aware of what she had just said, and Hermione thought that upon closer examination she might be blushing. “I… well, you know,” she said, regaining herself, “you need someone to give you proper fashion advice.”

Hermione grinned, turned back to the rack of clothes in front of her, and answered the previous question. “I’ve kissed Viktor, Cormac, Ron and – and Draco.” Her voice fell flat on the last name, but if Pansy noticed, she was nice enough to ignore it.

“That’s it?” she asked, looking disappointed.

“Well, what did you expect? Some scandalous snog session with someone I barely know in a broom closet?”

“You know, I swear I saw you go in a closet with Potter once in third year.” She mulled this over for a moment, Hermione purposely ducking her face and pretending to dig through the rack of clothes so Pansy wouldn’t catch the look on her face, then straightened up again. “Anyway, a broom closet isn’t really your thing. If you were to have a random snog session, it’d be in the library. The closet thing was my thing.”

“Pansy!” Hermione scolded, though secretly she was amused. “Have you no shame?”

“At least I got more action than you,” she said proudly. “Finally, a higher score than Hermione Granger.”

“How many exactly is the score?” Though she did not know if she wanted to know.

“Depends. Are we counting just males or females too?”

Hermione dropped the shirt she had been holding back on its rack, her eyes slightly wide. “You’ve kissed girls too?”

Pansy smirked naughtily. “You’re not with your Gryffindor pals now, Granger. You’re with the Slytherins now.”

As if on cue, Harry came blundering towards them from the other side of the shop, carrying several dresses. “How about these?” he asked, sounding strained, “D’you think Ginny will like them?”

Hermione picked up a purple and orange dress from him, staring it down and checking the tags. “Harry, this dress is at least two sizes too big for Ginny,” she said patiently.

Pansy sniggered. “Plus the combination of the two worst colours ever.”

Harry’s gaze hardened. “What do you mean?”

Pansy took a deep breath, the look on her face clearly stating that he should already know what she was about to tell him. “Look, if you’re unfortunate enough to be a redhead, there’s a definite limit on the colours you can wear. Purple takes the leading as possibly the worst colour, orange just behind because, when worn, it’ll make the wearer look like a walking carrot.”  

“I actually think Ginny can pull of both colours –” Harry started.

“Oh, quit kissing arse, Potter,” Pansy snapped. “Your Ginger Lover is not here to listen to what you have to say, so you’re allowed to say she’ll look like shit without the worry of a sexless week as a result.”

“Not this again,” Hermione said in annoyance, having seen Harry’s mouth open to no doubt argue. “You’ve had eight fights in the past two hours we’ve been here.”

“That’s because he’s a wank –”

“Ah!” Hermione pointed a finger at Pansy disapprovingly. “Not another word. Now if you both can’t act civil, at least remain silent around each other and leave the nasty remarks to yourselves, all right? It’s not like I forced you to come.”

Both mumbled their reluctant agreements, and as Harry walked back to put the dresses away and Pansy went to examine some shoes, Hermione let out a loud sigh that had the cashier looking at her strangely. 

It was true that she had not forced Harry or Pansy to come on this shopping spree. The original idea had been to go shopping with Harry and help him pick out spring clothes for Ginny, seeing as he was completely useless and Ginny had pretty much pleaded with Hermione for her to go, and because Hermione needed her own new set of clothes for the season, it’d suited perfectly. Then, when Pansy had mentioned how they needed to do something for the weekend, Hermione had told her she was shopping and Pansy decided she’d wanted to come along, surprisingly enough that she did not care that Harry was coming too.

Although, she was possibly regretting that now.

For the rest of the day Harry and Pansy shot dirty looks at each other when they didn’t think Hermione could see and would continue to make sarcastic comments. It was only at some point when Hermione left one of her shopping bags back at the table they’d had lunch at did things take a surprising turn.

She’d told them to wait and that she would be right back, only when she got back she was unsure if it was really Harry and Pansy. She had halted right in her tracks, the people walking behind her bumping into her back, but she hardly cared.

They were laughing. Together. actually, not quite laughing, but Pansy had leaned in and said something, and Harry had gave a short chuckle which had Pansy grinning, and it was the weirdest thing she had ever seen. Briefly, she wondered if this was what it was like for Harry when he saw her with Pansy and decided that it must be.

When Hermione went up to the both of them their smiles instantly disappeared, and again they started glaring at the other, but it was an improvement. Ever since she’d befriended Blaise and Pansy and started living with Draco, it was like she lived two lives. One where she was best friends with people who had once not cared if she lived or died, and the second with people who had always been her friends. She had never held her breath thinking that Harry or Ginny or any of them could look past what once was and see what Hermione saw in Blaise and Pansy, she had never pushed them to try and become friends with people they had nothing in common with. Or so it would seem that way. But really, as Hermione thought more about it, she realised that Blaise, Pansy and Draco all had very similar qualities to herself, Ron and Harry, and she began to think that maybe her old friends did not have to hate her new friends, thought that perhaps she did not have to split her life in two at all.

***

She had only ever been called into Mr. Jennings office twice. The first being when they’d brought in a severely suicidal elf and were in desperate need of assistance, and the second when she and Draco had been an hour late to show up the day they’d broken her bed. So it was understandable why she was partly nervous being called in this time, where there was no distraught elf and she had not arrived late.

Hermione sat opposite from her boss, who was sitting upright and scribbling something down on parchment, his glasses almost tipping off his long nose. When he finally finished, he met Hermione’s curious gaze head-on.

“I trust you’re wondering why I called you in here?”

“Well,” she fought down the urge to fidget, “yes, actually.” 

Jennings surveyed her and then stood and wondered away from his desk, stopping to look out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “Your assistant Mr. Malfoy is leaving soon,” he stated calmly, and instantly Hermione was defensive, unsure of why it sounded like an insult.

“In four months,” she corrected.  

Jennings turned ever so slightly so that he could see her from the corner of his eye. “Four months is not far away, Ms. Granger.”

She wanted to tell him that yes it was. It was ages and ages away, but knew he would not appreciate that (knew that he was right).

“We need to start thinking about what to do once he’s gone, which is why I have taken it upon myself to find you a new assistant.”

Hermione’s gaze had been focused on her shoes, but his words snapped her attention back to him like a magnet, her body tensing. “A new assistant?” she repeated, sounding distant and weak.

“And thankfully it did not take long to find the perfect choice,” he continued, oblivious to her reactions.

“You’ve – you’ve found someone? Without even telling me you were looking?” she was angry now. “Shouldn’t I have some say in this?” 

He faced her fully, expression soft as though he was speaking with a child. “I know how close you two are. I may be in charge but I do notice things, you know, and I find your ability to be both friends and colleagues admirable.” He strolled across the room until he was in front of her. “Believe me, I will miss Mr. Malfoy also, but we need to be realistic. He’s leaving soon, and I knew that if I didn’t start looking for a replacement you never would.”

“You could have said something,” she protested. “Mentioned it to me and I’d have started looking –”

“You can still do all that,” he talked over her patiently. “All I meant was I’ve found someone ideal for the job. If you don’t like my choice then you may feel free to find your own.” 

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a long time, mulling over his words. Given her own way, she would not be thinking about replacing Draco at all, could not imagine coming into work every day and not pass him in the halls or coffee room where he would no doubt have some arrogant remark ready. But Jennings was right. She had to be realistic. In four months, he would be gone. And they had to start making arrangements.

This was the first step.

“Is – is this person here? The one who’s ‘ideal’?”

Smiling, Jennings nodded. “I knew you would understand.” He walked to the door. “She’s just waiting outside.”

She. So her new potential assistant was female.

Jennings turned the doorknob and stuck his head out. Hermione could not hear precisely what he was saying, but she stood up and faced the door, smoothing down the front of her shirt as the door was pulled wider open and someone else stepped through.

“Hermione, this is Alexis Moore. Alexis, this is Hermione Granger.”

The first thing Hermione noticed about Alexis Moore was how well groomed she was. She had dark straight hair, startling blue eyes and was – there was no other way to put it – strikingly gorgeous. Her skin was fair with the occasional beauty spot, and she was dressed so well that Hermione felt as though she should be working for her. The way Alexis stood screamed confidence and poise, but not in the arrogant way, and she did not have on diamond studded heels like Tina, but classy black ones with a cream-coloured skirt and a baby blue blouse.

Alexis held out her hand, nails clear and shining, and after one second of hesitation Hermione shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, and it was only when she heard how stiff her words were did Hermione realise how bitter she was really feeling. It was not that she didn’t like Alexis, but it was that she honestly could not spot anything wrong with her, which she had very much hoped she would so she could prolong replacing Draco. A selfish impulse on her part, but she could not stop herself feeling this way.   

Alexis picked up on Hermione’s tone, and her smile faded.

“Well,” Jennings said, clapping his hands together, “no use wasting important interviewing time, is there?” And without waiting for answer, he practically shoved them both out of his office, leaving both women to the crowded halls outside.

Throwing a nasty look behind her that Jennings would never see, Hermione led Alexis through the winding halls and into her office. She gave a brief tour of the small room and answered any questions Alexis might have about the job, and then she started the interview process, beginning with the most basic questions.

Alexis’s answers were nothing out of the ordinary. Well, if she was being truthful they were better than ordinary. She had such a confident outlook, and the way she spoke made people want to listen, but this only bothered Hermione more.

She was about almost finished with the standard questions when her eyes looked properly at the top of Alexis’s resume for the first time. She discovered that she was a year younger than herself, a little surprising because she acted so much older, but that was not the information that caught Hermione’s attention. It was her school

Durmstrang Institute.

“You went to Durmstrang?”

Alexis’s reaction to this question was instinctive, as though she had known this part would crop up at some point. She sat taller; the muscles in her jaw tightening. “I know that school’s got a reputation for teaching its students the Dark Arts, but that’s why I chose it.” Hermione frowned a little at that, and she added hastily, “Not because I intended to become evil or anything, but because I think in order to understand dark magic you have to be taught it as though you were going to use it. You need to understand what you’re up against, because if you have no idea, how can you expect yourself to be prepared?”

Hermione eyed her closely for a moment, considered telling her that that was probably what the Death Eaters thought in their time too, but then repeated what she said with a contemplative expression, and slowly she began to think that maybe what Alexis was saying made a lot of sense – was probably the smartest thing she had ever heard, because it was one thing to be smart, but entirely another to be smart in an area that even the brainiest got wrong. So many thought that dark magic was something to be completely avoided, but perhaps it only needed to be understood. Like a gun, really. A gun was nothing when you understood how to take it apart and put it together again, was nothing without a person behind it.  

Hermione leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth lifting, and she could not help how impressed she was.

Alexis had only just smiled back when the door flew open and Draco waltzed in, evidently too absorbed in his muffin to notice they had company. “Granger, I swear to god if Bun Woman ever smiles the world will turn off it’s axis, you know what she did just now? I told her a joke and she just started at me for like five minutes. Five freakin’ minutes.” When she failed to respond, Draco looked up from his food. “Who are you?” he asked. His eyes looked over Alexis once, resting for a moment longer than necessary on her long legs – Hermione pretended that this did not bother her – and then his gaze was on Hermione again, questioningly.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Draco, this is Alexis. Alexis, meet Draco,” she said wearily. “She’s going to be the new assistant. Possibly.”

Draco’s expression slipped for a moment, his lips pressed together, but then he nodded. And then nodded again harder. “Right. I hadn’t even…” But whatever words he was going to use to finish off that sentence were never said, and instead he walked forwards to shake Alexis’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Briefly, Hermione was bewildered. She’d thought he would be rude to her, or at least show some kind of resentment like she had done, but Draco had on a polite and accepting smile, and suddenly Hermione was really ashamed of herself; being bitter to a girl who did no deserve it. It wasn’t her fault Draco was going.

A warm feeling spread throughout her chest, seeing him shake her hand, and it took a moment before Hermione recognised it as pride. She was proud of him. So proud of him for being so mature about it. She thought back to the start of the year, how he’d acted as though he owned the place and asked arrogantly for a job, and now just look at him. Shaking hands with someone who was going to replace him and accepting it before even she herself could.

“It’s a pleasure.” Alexis let go of his hand, then added reluctantly, “Well, maybe not for you. I’m about to take your job.”    

Draco tried to appear indifferent. “Someone’s got to do it, and if it has to be anyone I’d rather it be the girl with the strong handshake.” He looked at Hermione and started backing away. “I should leave you to it, then.”

But before he could go, Alexis asked after him, “Who’s Bun Woman?”

Draco waved his hand impassively. “Just the old lady who works at the front desk.”

She paused, her expression unreadable. “The one in the green skirt?”

“Yeah.”

A sort of cheeky smirk ghosted across her lips. “She’s my grandmother.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and Draco, who had started walking away again, stopped in his tracks. “What?” they demanded together.

________________________________________

Next chapter; 

He saw her lip tremble, and he turned to look her in the face.

“Pansy?” he asked, putting a hand on her arm. She shook her head and tried to turn away again, but he wouldn’t have it. “Pansy,” he tried again, serious. “What’s wrong?”

She looked at him, her eyes desperate and lost.

~

So I've had someone like Alexis planned for a long time, and I wanted to have some kind of relation to Bun Woman, so it worked out well, I think. I don't know how much we'll have of her in the story, but she'll be important (just to let you all know I'm not introducing a new character for the hell of it haha). 

And this is also most probably the last update you'll have from me with a kidney stone *insert dramatic music* On the 13th I go in for surgery and its been kinda hard focusing on chapters because I haven't had surgery done before. Not scared, just nervous because it's no longer keyhole and I hate not knowing what's going to happen until the last minute. AND! Because the 13th is a Black Friday, I think. Lucky me ahaha. But yes, as I said, I've been having trouble with chapter's so if this one has any major mistakes please let me know :) thanks guys.