----
"I'm not an early bird or a night owl. Maybe some kind of permanently exhausted pigeon."
----

The next week passed by sooner than Hermione would have wanted. In between preparing armadillo bile to ship to Hogwarts, delivering several crates of potions to St Mungo's, squabbling with Draco about who's fact was most interesting, and trying to get Crookshanks to eat his dinner, the week seemed to flash past her. 

On Friday, just after break, when Hermione and Draco had gotten back to work, Mr. Blak hobbled over to the work area. 

Hermione had been dreading this all week.

Draco was forcibly grinding some Mooncalf horn, although it was already a very fine powder. Maybe he was aiming for cracking the mortar in two.

"So," Mr. Blak bounced a little on his feet, "This week, you'll be preparing-"

"I can't," Draco said, placing his pestle down and whirling around to face Mr. Blak, "I told you that I cannot work on weekends."

Hermione looked curiously at him, at some kind of passion underneath his hard features, the kind that she had never seen, or perhaps had never cared to notice. It burned like a fire in his eyes that were usually the color of ice. Gunmetal.

"I expect you can spare a few hours each day," Mr. Blak said, gentler this time, "If things are...serious...then you can tell me and I'll let the weekly assignment slip."

Only then did Hermione realise that it had something bigger than just wanting to spend time with his fiancée or friends. It was something more important. Only, Hermione didn't know what. 

Draco nodded and leaned back against the desk. 

"You'll be preparing Alihotsy Draught," Mr. Blak said.

Hermione nodded. It wasn't a hard potion to brew. 

"The importance of these assignments," Mr. Blak said, solemn again, "Is infinitesimal. You see, every year, St Mungo's hosts an examination for witches and wizards willing to apply."

Hermione's ears perked up on hearing the word examination.

"If you can get through," Mr. Blak went on, "You can apply for a job at St Mungo's as a potions handler, or as an assistant Healer. You will also receive a certificate, which will allow you to begin your own apothecary practice if you wish to do so. In other words, you will be promoted from apprentice to potioneer."

Eagerness grew in Hermione's mind. 

Her current job had a decent pay, and she was managing (atleast she had paid her laundry bill). If she were to get a job at St Mungo's, it would help her greatly. Maybe she could even-

"So these assignments are of great importance," Mr. Blak said, looking at each of them by turn, "To be able to take the examination, you need a recommendation by your Master or employer. If you wish to attain your approval and recommendation from me, I want you to be sincere about these weekly assignments."

Thankfully, for Mr. Blak had grown overly serious, the front door opened at that time and an old woman demanding Brain Elixir marched in, so Mr. Blak hobbled away. 

She would try her hardest, that was for sure. The only questionable thing was whether Draco would coordinate with her.

"We meet tomorrow at five in the evening at your place."

Hermione was started out of her little reverie when Draco spoke. He was frowning deeply at her. 

"Why at my place?" Hermione was apprehensive of having Draco in her living space, "Why not yours?"

"Because I say so," he said with an air of someone who owned the world.

"Well, I refuse to have you at my flat!" Hermione said indignantly, looking up at his now sneering face with her arms crossed. 

"Then we shall fail the first assignment," Draco said coolly. 

Hermione clenched her jaw and waged an internal battle. 

She really did want to give that examination. And for that she needed to do well on these assignments. And to do well in the assignments, she needed to cooperate with Draco. 

Why must everything be related?

She groaned, "Fine." She very reluctantly scribbled her adress down on a piece of parchment and thrust it into his hands.

Throughout the Saturday luncheon at the Burrow, Hermione was jittery and dreading the evening that was bound to end in hexes and curses. 

"Don't forget, we're going to the park tomorrow!" Ginny called after Hermione when she half ran back inside the house. 

"I won't!" Hermione yelled back. She grabbed her coat and her bag, and apparated to her flat. 

There were still five minutes before the clock would strike five. 

Hermione exhaled, relieved, and laid her coat down on the couch. She placed her bag atop it and proceeded to stretch her neck and flex her fingers. 

Like the usual custom of human memory to be strongest at the last minute, Hermione remembered that she did not, in fact, have a cauldron of her own. Or any ingredients. Or a safe place to brew, because she definitely wasn't risking burning her carpets. 

Crookshanks meowed in greeting from his usual perch on the window seat.

Hermione quickly glanced at his foodbowl, to find it only pecked at. 

"Why aren't you- oh, bother," Hermione picked the bowl up and took it to Crookshanks, "Do you not like this?"

Crookshanks looked up at her, and Hermione thought that he was desperately trying to communicate with her. Only, she couldn't understand what he was trying to make her understand. 

"Do you always speak to animals?"

Hermione was so startled she dropped the bowl full of cat food, where it landed with a loud crash. Cat food flew everywhere. Her heart rate jumped at the sudden invasion, and she placed a hand over her chest as she tried to calm herself down. 

"Oh Merlin," Hermione tried to calm her breath, and rounded on Draco, who was standing by the door, messenger bag on his shoulder, apparently trying very hard not to laugh. 

"Don't do that!" Hermione said shrilly, looking around for something to throw at him. Finally she grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at him. It missed narrowly and fell to the floor after bouncing off the wall. 

"Good evening," he said sardonically, the corners of his mouth now turned down in a frown. 

"Do you not know about knocking?" Hermione continued in her high pitched voice, "Do you go around barging into people's apartments?"

"No, but some people wish I would barge into theirs," Draco said snidely, with a sly, seductive smirk. 

"Oh, of course, how could I forget?" Hermione waved her hands about and wrinkled her nose, "Slytherin Prince. Hogwarts Heartbreaker."

"So you've heard of that?" Draco looked thoroughly amused once again.

"Oh, I've seen girls crying over you like some self perseverance-less fools," Hermione said. 

"But- you used to speak about me?" Draco sank into her couch without an invitation. Hermione winced when he crushed one of the cushions underneath him.

Crookshanks raised his head to peek at Draco from over the couch. He left his window seat and sauntered over to Draco, and after some contemplation, settled down over Draco's feet. 

"You're insufferable," Hermione said viciously, raking a hand through her hair. 

"Take this ginger abomination away," Draco said, moving his feet our from under Crookshanks, who only moved to sit over them again. Draco made a sound of irritation, "Honestly, take it away." He said this even as he lowered a hand to scratch Crookshanks behind his ear. 

Hermione frowned. Crookshanks was her cat. He wasn't supposed to like people she didn't like. It wasn't fair.

She took a calming breath and prayed to whoever might be listening to grant her patience, "I don't have a-"

"Cauldron, or ingredients, or anything," Draco interrupted, "I know. It must be hard to buy those things with your scanty salary."

"You get the same salary, nitwit," Hermione could not- what was his problem?

"But I happen to be rich already," Draco went on. He reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like an entire potions kit. His cauldron, once unshrunk, gleamed in the light of the dwindling sunrays, his vials and flasks of ingredients were full to the top, his silver knife polished to perfection, and a tripod stand. 

"Impressed?" Draco asked, noticing Hermione's awestruck expression. 

Hermione glared at him, "Never."

She was impressed. But that didn't mean she had to tell him that. 

"Do you atleast have an apron?" Draco chided, and he gently lifted Crookshanks onto the couch. Hermione was surpised by this sudden gentle act. 

He began setting up his stand on the carpet. 

"No!" Hermione rushed forward to stop him from setting the flame alight. Looking at his amused expression, she haughtily cleared her throat, "I mean, yes, I have an apron. And you've got to set it up by the window, where there's no carpet on the floor."

Draco rolled his eyes, but obliged. Hermione hurried to get her apron. She didn't feel comfortable leaving Draco unsupervised for too long, especially while at her apartment.

"Move over," she mumbled. He looked up with a raised brow, and shook his head. 

"For goodness' sake- move over or I will push you!" Hermione felt about ready to jump out the window just to get away from him.

"Any person with proper manners would say 'Would you please move over?'," Draco smirked a little as he said this. 

He thought of her as ill mannered. 

Why that little, arrogant, toerag, son of a-

"Please move?" Hermione said, shutting her eyes tight. Her cheeks grew hot, and her pride reared up, unhappy with tbe temporary reins she had put on it. 

"Sure," he said, inclining his head mockingly. He moved a little to his left. 

Hermione sat down with a good distance between them. He began gathering the ingredients they would need, and as he moved around her to grab his blade and a petri dish, she caught a whiff of his vanilla smell. 

Annoyed with herself, she crossed her arms and her legs, and sat scowling at him. 

"We can even make the Flumbumble Treacle," Draco said, "For extra credit."

Hermione huffed, "Extra credit for you, or for me?"

"Me, because I suggested the idea," he said, with a smirk that made Hermione want to punch him in the face. 

"Oh for- fine," Hermione snatched the Alihotsy leaves from him and began furiously chopping them up. Draco ignored her and poured a measure of water into the cauldron. 

She had never been with him alone in such close proximity before, except during school and at work. At work it was different because they were always occupied and actually had a reason to tolerate each other. But now it was just them willingly being in each other's presence. And surprisingly they hadn't started fighting yet, but Hermione would give it a little more time. While at Hogwarts, they had always been surrounded by other people, so that Hermione didn't have to handle him alone.

"You're cutting it too fine," he said after a while, and tried to grab the knife and dish out of Hermione's hands. 

Hermione swerved away, "I'm doing it just fine!"

"It's supposed to be coarsely cut!" Draco made a grab for it again. 

This time Hermione jerked away so violently, that the leaves - cut and uncut - fell into the cauldron. 

Hermione gasped and reached for her wand.

"It wasn't time to put it in yet!" Draco frantically tried to turn the flame out, but in his haste, he knocked over a foot of the tripod stand, sending the cauldron flying. The near-boiling water splashed all over him. Hermione's hand slipped on the fallen water, and she lost balance and fell neatly on top of Draco, who was screaming obscenities. 

It took a moment to gather her bearings. Then Hermione shot to her feet, and began putting things back into order. The spilt water and leaves were Vanished, the cauldron uprighted and the stand erected. 

"Malfoy, come and hel- what are you doing?" 

Draco was stuffing his things back into his bag, pell-mell, all the while muttering curses of such colorful origin that Hermione may have covered her ears if not for her self control. His clothes were soaked, and his face twisted into a fierce frown. Draco stood and began walking to the door. 

"You're leaving?" Hermione asked incredulously, stalking across the living room to reach him, "We can just start over again!"

"No, I will not spend another second in your presence," he replied through gritted teeth, "It's hazardous to my health."

"But-but the assignment!" Hermione reached out to grab his shoulder and turn him around. 

"Looks like we'll be failing the first assignment," Draco harshly shoved her hand off, "Congratulations on ruining it."

"You're the one who started messing around!" Hermione said, disbelieving of his arrogance. 

Without another word, Draco wrenched open the door, slammed it in place, and stomped away down the hall. 

Hermione first felt extremely, extremely angry, and then forlorn. They would fail their very first assignment. The very first one.

Hermione huffed and bit the inside of her cheek. Her wand drummed away at her thigh, and she looked around agitatedly. The place where his harsh fingers had gripped her wrist to shake it off began to blossom in a small bruise .

Crookshanks purred weakly once, then curled up in his bed for a nap.